Chuck vs The Smart Bullets
by Doc in Oz
Summary: The fourth in the 'Sarah vs Fan Fiction' trilogy, which technically stops it being a trilogy, I know. Chuck and Sarah are secretly dating. Fulcrum have stolen the plot... I mean, some GPS guided ammunition. Can our spies get them back?
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. **This just will not die. Thankfully. For those of you who came in late (or are too lazy to start reading from the beginning – Sarah vs The Fan Fiction, a shameless plug), this is earlyish season two, and somehow it became AU.

Don't ask me how. I just put them in Witsec. Foolishly, I left them alone for twelve hours, and they did the rest themselves.

So Chuck and Sarah are secretly dating. OK, ready? No? Well, stiff. Here we go...

I don't own Chuck et al.

* * *

><p>Tuesdays are quiet in the Burbank Buy More. That is <em>never<em> a good sign.

Chuck contemplated seeing if he could nip the brewing problem in the bud. Not that he could actually see a problem budding.

It was quiet. Thus, there was a bud, and somewhere it was budding. QED.

It didn't matter. The problem would find him. Somehow, they always seemed to. See? Jeff and Lester are sauntering back from the break room. Chuck contemplated burying his head in his hands. It wouldn't stop anything, but he might feel better. Their conversation came within earshot.

Jeff was saying "...she told me I had to see this really good film."

Chuck thought the pause could be described as pregnant. But then, with these two, maybe that particular description wasn't a good idea.

Lester regarded his larger associate. After a moment he prompted "Does this film have a name?"

There was a slight delay. "Something Borrowed" Jeff was finally able to admit.

"OK, is that "Something _something_ Borrowed?" or "_Something_ something Borrowed?"

"Uh... wait..." Jeff's face fell to its natural expression since Lester had perplexed him with a complex question. Oh alright, _a_ question.

Morgan came in with "The Borrowers? I loved those books."

Chuck decided he'd had enough, and left them to their own devices. It would be safer over at the yogurt shop. He didn't quite run.

-o0o-

Sarah beamed as he came into the shop. "Chuck! Hi." She paused, a look of concern passed over her expression. Chuck was here early. Normally he had the discipline to only come over at lunch. Something must have happened.

"Did you fla…."

"I hit my Jefster event horizon a little early today. I just needed to get out of there" he pointed his thumb over his shoulder "The natives are bored. And so, I thought I could escape the disaster before it splats" he thought for a moment before adding "Maybe the CIA could set me up as a wealthy playboy in the south of France, Rome even, as a front. I could have the pick of the top agents" he looked significantly at her "by my side. Day and night. At least I wouldn't have to deal with the Buy Moron twins."

Sarah smiled sadly at him "You'd have to be a field agent for that" and then she brightened with a pleasant thought "Oh, but since you're here, you _can_ help me with something" she smiled, leading him to the freezer.

Chuck followed her as she led him down the stairs into Castle "Sure. What's up?"

"I just need your height. I can't reach the copy paper on the top shelf of the supply closet."

"Oh, OK."

He failed to see her one-sided smile. God, he was so loveably innocent sometimes...

-o0o-

Chuck allowed the huge grin to spread as he crossed back over to the Buy More. They were lucky this was a CIA base. That meant there were shredders _everywhere_. And so they were able to destroy the ream of both blurry (and yet, at the same time, very explicit) evidence the photocopier had begun shooting out when one of them had inadvertently hit the 'copy' button.

At least it hadn't been the _fax_ button...

That would be a distinct way to resign, faxing a copy of your freckle to a General...

He was very pleased he'd decided to duck out. Except he now had to go back. _Oh, well. Let's see what they've done now..._

It actually looked OK. Jeff and Lester were still in conversation at the herd desk. There were no police cruisers, news helicopters or sexual harassment lawyers circling the store. But the day was young and Chuck had confidence in the inhabitants of Buymoria.

The conversation at the nerd desk had segued. But then, they always seemed to somehow…..

"…. kidding me. Royal wedding? Been interviews, and TV movies for months. Twelve _hours_ of live TV…." emphasized Morgan, slightly dumbfounded.

"Nope" Jeff sounded mildly proud.

"You have no idea that the future king of England just got married?" Morgan reiterated, just to be sure.

Jeff shook his head. And then something happened. A stray thought got lost, and wandered across his mind. A dangerous place for a young though.

"How do you become king, then?" Jeff asked.

Morgan knew this one, he seen a movie about it "The lady of the lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water. Signifying by divine providence, that…." he had a slightly misty eyed expression. That was before….

"Listen, tosh" interrupted Lester "Strange women lyin' about in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive…."

"Quiet!" misty eyed Morgan was gone.

"…power derives from a mandate from the masses, not some farcical aquatic ceremony. You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you."

"Shut up!"

"If I went round, sayin' I was an emperor just some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away" continued Lester, backing away from Morgan.

"Will you shut up!" cried Morgan, advancing towards a retreating Lester.

Lester fled past Chuck crying "Now we see the violence inherent in the system. Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!" his last words coming from the direction of the break room.

Chuck stopped Morgan with a hand to his friend's chest, and shook his head.

"Bloody peasant!" declared Morgan.

But just then, Jeff had had a revelation…..

"Wait! …Was that the thing with the girl with antlers?" Jeff wanted to know. He never found out, since Chuck and Morgan had adjourned to the home cinema room.

-o0o-

Casey made the third turn in the past minute. The grunt he made had a bad number.

"Great. We've been made" Casey growled.

"Quick, pull over" decided Sarah "Dump the car, we'll find an alternate"

"The Vic? Uh, uh. I'm not dumping….." but he _was_ pulling over.

"Fine" she looked over to the back seat "Chuck? You're with me" as she got out. Chuck followed. Sarah leant in through the window "Fine, _park_ your precious car. We'll advise when find alternate means. Quick Chuck, come on" as she took his hand leading him down the street.

Earlier in the day, Casey had pulled Chuck unceremoniously, and also unnecessarily violently, over to the Orange Orange. The General appeared on screen and told them of the theft of high tech ordinates from the secure holding of a government contractor. The grainy camera footage was little help. These guys were pros. No visual clues, and only spoke in code. The code was what triggered the flash.

They were Fulcrum. Now armed with a rather fancy smart bullet. From the way Sarah had explained it to him, Chuck thought of the bullets like something like that scene from The Fifth Element.

"Isn't that sort of cheating?" he'd wanted to know.

Casey seemed to agree in principle, but at the same time didn't want to be seen agreeing with his idiot asset, and tried to spin a line about 'giving an edge to an agent.' "A level playing field is the last thing an agent wants."

Sarah watched Casey struggle with his pride for a bit, before he uttered "Real spies don't need them."

-o0o-

Sarah and Chuck ran up the sidewalk. They cut through a back lane, emerging in time to see the target vehicle turn, and pull up across the street from them. Sarah pulled Chuck in tight, holding him with his back toward the baddies. While pretending to whisper sweet nothings to her tall companion, she advised Casey, via Chuck's earwig, of the situation.

That fact that Chuck was shivering in a frenzy of goose-bumps from having Sarah breath _anything_ into his ear, did not prevent him from copping a feel. He could hear her smile as she continued to report. Once the last baddie disappeared into the small club, Sarah deactivated coms for the moment, and gave Chuck a blistering kiss

"You _bad_ boy…." She said encouragingly over her shoulder, as she sauntered saucily away from him, casually reactivating the coms.

The small club had a cover band playing. A bunch of white boys playing some pretty good blues, to be honest.

Their mission was to determine and follow any contacts Fulcrum had, so this was a observation mission. Not that that ever stopped any Team Bartowski missions from evolving, judging on past experience.

Casey found them mingling in the crowd. "I put a tracker on their vehicle" he told them.

"These must be the buyers" Sarah indicated using her elbow. Chuck grinned to himself. In his Stanford days, he and the guys had used the same gesture to indicate a pretty girl without being too obvious.

"They're breaking up" noted Casey, as the buyers and Fulcrum suspects separated.

"We can't use the Vic, they might had told them about it"

"Chuck could be right" Sarah advised Casey when it looked like he wasn't happy about having to leave the Vic.

-o0o-

When they got outside, the new baddies were already getting into a car. Sarah and Casey looked around for a suitable replacement for the Vic.

"Hey, guys" Chuck was standing beside a car, with the drivers door already open.

"You've gotta be shitting me!"

"Chuck, it looks like a police car" Sarah tried to explain. She was right, it looked like an ex cop car, with the band's name painted on the sides.

"It's not like we have a lot of options at this time" Chuck said as he slid into the car, indicating the new target vehicle turn right at the corner.

Chuck found himself with Sarah's blonde mop in his lap, as she hotwired the car. Casey climbed into the back seats with a further "You gotta be shitting me!"

-o0o-

Perhaps Sarah and Casey had been correct. A police car, driven by a civilian asset was quickly identified by the new baddies. And also by a passing patrol car.

"Uh oh"

"What!" demanded both Sarah and Casey.

"Um, we have company" Chuck admitted flicking his eyes to the mirror.

"Crap" said Casey looking out the back "We gotta loose them!"

"What about the buyers?" Chuck wanted to know. He didn't want to loose the opportunity.

"Forget them, we still have the original vehicle tracked, and the exchange hasn't happened yet, so we still have a chance" Sarah tried to calm Chuck.

Casey didn't help by announcing "Another cop car."

"We can still lose them, turn here" said Sarah.

"If this was a real cop car, we could at least listen in on the radio" commented Casey, still facing the rear "Another two cars" he added.

"Uh, Sarah? Can you grab my phone? Rear pocket" Chuck lifted a cheek "Thanks. I… uh…. kind of added an app that'll let us scan police frequencies…"

"Chuuu-uuck"

"Right! No! Your other right!"

-o0o-

Chuck's phone squawked - _We are in high speed pursuit. Northbound on Burbank Boulevard, black and white 2004 Dodge sedan with Illinois plates. Request assistance_

Sarah and Casey exchanged glances.

"Be alright if we could just get back on the expressway" groused Chuck, at the wheel as they careened around the lot.

"This don't look like no expressway to me!" Casey commented as they zipped up another aisle of the mall's open air parking lot.

"Don't yell at me" Chuck shot back as debris slid across the dashboard.

"What you want me to do, motor head?" Casey retorted. Sarah held both hands on the dashboard to keep from landing face first in Chuck's lap as he took another corner, causing the car to cock its hind leg.

"Well, try not to be so negative all the time. Why don't you offer some ... constructive criticism?" countered Chuck

"You got us into this parking lot, pal. So you get us out." Casey really wanted to fold his arms to prove his point, but needed to hold onto the Jesus strap over the door. Both of them.

"You want out of this parking lot? OK."

Sarah had a feeling that Chuck's answer was _awfully_ decisive, and was going to lead to a fun debrief.

If they ever got to the debrief. The glass doors to Large Mart looked awfully close...

-o0o-

"Will there be anything else?" the check out girl asked.

"Yes" Jeff responded, holding up a Grover plush doll with a leer "Do you have a Miss Piggy?"

Shortly there after, the (possibly former) police car that had been borrowed by a joint CIA NSA black ops team, and fourteen legitimate ones drove up the aisles of the Large Mart.

"Boy, it sure would be nice if we had some _grenades_, don't you think?" said Casey as he sat back up, glancing out the rear window.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N. II <strong>Oh, and yeah, I know 'Something Borrowed' was not in the cinemas in 2008/9 – when this would be set – but I overheard this conversation in a lift the other night...

And the same anachronism with the royal wedding. I offered it to our favourite ninja librarian, but her idea is much better – and quistie64 seriously knows her Python. Do not challenge her like it was the Spanish Inquisition...

-o0o-


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Chuck et al.

* * *

><p>Chuck managed to loose half of the police cars chasing them in the garden section of the Large Mart, when he was able to pull off a Scandinavian flick (the first of his life), and drift into the other aisle, two down (power tools).<p>

"Thank you Captain Slow" Chuck muttered ignoring Sarah and Casey's "Who?" while they fishtailed for ten feet.

Seven of the police cars following tangled themselves up amongst the agapanthuses, when the second clipped the lead police car.

Another couple of turns, and they were able to loose a further four, who got lost in the stationery and office furniture aisles.

Finding their explosive entry point, Chuck drove back out onto the lot, and made a bee line for the exit back onto Burbank Boulevard. Chuck's iPhone scanner app let them know that a reasonable percentage of their entourage was now otherwise engaged.

"Freeway!" pointed Casey, leading Chuck to understand that Casey wanted him to take the exit. The traffic on the freeway was fairly light. The good thing about that was it allowed Chuck to build up some speed and distance. The bad thing was the news chopper found them. That meant the cops would soon know where they were.

As soon as they got onto the freeway, Casey had gotten onto his phone, and was barking orders as if he was a major in the Marines.

After fourteen minutes of weaving though the light traffic, Casey amazed Chuck with his solution "Chuck, that talking car show, ever see it? OK, OK. Well, you're gonna do the drive into the back of a truck stunt. Except, this time it'll be..."

And then a very large helicopter, the kind with two large rotors, front and back, descended in front of them. The tail ramp of the Chinook was down, and the chopper was effectively doing a very high speed taxi, six feet over the surface of the freeway, matching Chuck's speed. For some reason, the other traffic gave the chopper and Chuck a bit of distance.

"OK, I think he's got the idea" said Sarah when she saw Chuck's expression. Chuck flashed his lights and accelerated. The loadmaster in the back waved (and then moved well off to the side), and then the huge craft touched down with a large puff of tire smoke and sparks as the ramp dragged along the concrete.

The Dodge _bu-doummbed_ up the ramp and into the cavity of the Chinook's hold. As soon as Chuck came to a rest, the world leant backwards as the Chinook regained her natural element. Chuck view in the mirror was scary as all hell. All he could see was the concrete of the freeway, and then more and more of the world as the craft climbed. When they levelled off, Casey tapped him on the shoulder indicating the crewmen near the wheels giving an OK signal.

"You can stop trying to push the brake pedal through the floor now" he added.

The trio got out of the Dodge as the tail ramp was being raised. The back of a Chinook is a noisy place, Chuck discovered. Casey led them forward, away from the twin gas turbines that were the source of the noise. They still had to yell a little to have a conversation.

"Why were the cops following us?" Chuck wanted to know.

"Fulcrum must have tipped them off" guessed Casey over the noise.

-o0o-

Chuck stood at the tail ramp, watching the lights of LA pass below him through the partly opened ramp. He sensed movement beside him, and turned to find Casey also contemplating the view.

After a moment, Casey indicated the plug of the noise cancelling intercom/headset they'd been loaned. Chuck plugged his in to the socket beside the one Casey used, and looked at the large man questioningly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah further forward find a socket also. He smiled a little to himself, his girlfriend was checking up on him.

"These guys were on their way to Edwards, when they got diverted to help us. We've got a bit over half an hour before we get there" Casey paused. Perhaps being back in the hold of one of these had made him nostalgic... "When I was younger, they used to let to surf out the back of these things."

"Surf?" Chuck asked confused by the a he wouldn't normally associate with a military helicopter.

"Harness, and a safety line. You jump out, and get dragged behind. Like free fall. Position yourself against the airflow. Great fun. Can't do that anymore."

"OSHA." Guessed Chuck. Casey nodded. The words "Nanny state" were too quiet to activate the intercom.

When Casey unplugged and wandered off to the pointy end, Chuck looked back a Sarah with eyebrows raised. She shrugged back at him.

God, he hoped Casey wasn't trying to organise a 'special treat' for him.

-o0o-

When the Chinook landed, Casey said to the loadmaster "My compliments to captain Wash."

Chuck stopped walking as if he'd suddenly dropped anchor. He did a quadruple take, his mouth framing a question before Sarah came back for him, and yanked him into motion.

"A veritable leaf on the breeze" Chuck muttered to himself as the trio walked away from the helicopter. A clean up crew was recovering the Dodge so the police could find it later, placed elsewhere.

While they were waiting for a lift back to Bob Hope, Chuck went wandering inside the Air Force base.

"Walker, keep an eye on the moron. Don't want him sucked into an intake. That could ground the aircraft for days" Casey commented, before he found some fellow officers to swap war stories with.

Since Edwards is technically an international airport (and for a glorious moment in history – a space port), there is a passport control, and a departure lounge. Chuck stood at the door to this rather hopefully named 'departure lounge.' This being a government facility, it was ... basic. There were two, two seat couches, clad in orange vinyl. Circa 1985. The TV was about the same age.

Since this was the wee smalls of the morning, he wasn't expecting much when he turned the TV on.

Chuck sat transfixed on the edge of the couch. It was The Thunderbirds... one of the underwater episodes. He heard movement behind him, and glanced over. A young airman had stuck his head in the door, and spotted what was on TV.

"Is that...?" the airman started, his finger pointing to Virgil (suspended on visible wires) 'swimming' mechanically in a Sixties styled, futuristic wetsuit. Chuck nodded.

The airman kept his hand on the door frame, and leant back out and yelled "Thunderbirds! Hey guys! The Thunderbirds are on" before joining Chuck on the couch. About thirty seconds later, some forty seven personnel were crowded into the room that had seating for four, all glued to the TV screen.

It turned out that the group were sharing the flight with Team B. The contingent was on its way to Hawaii for training. Their flight was being diverted to Bob Hope to drop off Chuck and co.

Around the twenty minute mark, the aircraft went to its _second_ boarding call before Sarah stormed into the room, and unplugged the TV from the power. The massed "Awwww..." died a quick death when they saw Sarah's expression. The room emptied in a thunder of boots, and a crush at the door.

"NOT YOU!" kept Chuck pinned to the couch while he last of his erstwhile compatriots glanced backwards, and fled. He looked up at her, and nervously swallowed. His love advanced on him as a Valkyrie seeking bloody revenge... her eyes ablaze, her hair swirling in righteous fury.

She almost made it too. But after three seconds, she flickered a true Sarah smile, before a version of the glare resumed its regular broadcast. "Don't you try those big beautiful sad baby Harp seal eyes on me, mister. Plane!" she pointed "Now!"

After folding her arms at him, she said in a quieter voice "You're lucky you're so damned cute, mister Bartowski... Don't smile! Casey's watching"

He kept his head bowed as Sarah tried her best to break him into a grin "That's right, keep moving mister 'oooh look, some old TV show I've seen twenty times before is on and I must watch it'..."

-o0o-

While on the Hercules, the contingent of airmen kept their distance from Chuck, and the angry blonde. Well, the angry blonde, and by default anyone near her. The guys kept looking at them, wondering what that poor man had done. She was obviously some sort of spook. Maybe he knew the Presidents nuclear codes or something.

Shame, because normally a girl that pretty would rate some appreciation of being under her protection. And that big guy, he seemed to find the whole thing very funny.

-o0o-

"Major Casey. Are you deliberately trying to expose yourself to the civilian population?" the General wanted to know. Everyone ignored Chuck's coughing fit (except for Sarah who kicked Chuck's ankle). "It would seem I almost have all of the senior members of the greater Los Angeles police forces on speed dial."

"General, it would seem that Fulcrum have some of those phone numbers too. The number of police cars chasing us would seem to be excessive, indicating they were tipped off" Casey stood at parade rest, not moving as he addressed the General.

After advising the general, they were preparing to leave. Casey decided to sleep in one of the cells (making sure he had a keycard, just in case Bartowski wanted to be cute). Sarah told Chuck "Come on. You can sleep on my couch. If you come home at half past four in the morning, Ellie will think you've had a fight with me. At least this way you can get one hour of sleep before we have to go to work."

Once they were in her Porsche, he gazed at her and asked "Couch?"

"Oh, shut up" she grinned back at him.

She pulled out of the plaza lot. They both glanced in mild interest at the police cordon and flashing lights around the Large Mart entrance.

As soon as they were in her room, both just fell onto the bed fully clothed, and fell asleep seconds after a quick kiss.

-o0o-

"Charles, you look like _crap_. Did miss Blondie keep you _up_ all night? Perhapssss you should reconsider..."

"Bartowski! Managers office! Now! You're late Bartowski!" bellowed a voice from the office.

"Sorry, Big Mike"

"...and then, as I'm buying ... um something else..." he flicked his eyes to Lester, but he hadn't noticed "All these Po po just crashed in, and drive straight past me. And I hadn't even done..." Jeff continued in the background.

-o0o-

"…..It's just we never see him anymore" Jeff was complaining "Just spends every night at home..."

"I'm just saying, that if I'd splashed out on a full sized Dalek, I'd want to stay in too. That's a sizable investment. I'd want to get my money's worth" argued Lester

It was only because he'd had one hours sleep, Chuck couldn't help himself "Lester, if I Google 'splashed out on a Dalek,' I _really _don't want to see any pictures of you. I mean, I _really _don't…"

"That's a very small niche of the internet" Jeff let them know.

It was Morgan who caused Chuck to weep with laughter when he impersonated a Dalek crying out in its bubbly voice "No Lester, no!"

Chuck had never heard a Dalek sound frightened before. As Chuck doubled over in tears of laughter, he thought this one sounded terrified.

-o0o-

Morgan had surreptitiously brought up the fan fiction site, to browse his alerts. "Aw man! Look at this. She just mentions Kent, and the reviewers go ballistic" Morgan indicated the screen to Chuck.

Chuck peered over his buddy's shoulder at the screen "Well, I guess there's still some issues with Kent. And the whole season three situation. You're right, some strong feelings there. What knockers."

"Vhy shank you, Doktor" came an unexpected female accent from behind them.

Morgan sprayed pseudo grape flavored carbonated beverage across the nerd desk, as Chuck whirled around to find Sarah standing with her chest sticking out a bit more than normal, swaying them (just a little) from side to side. Being Sarah, she had a complex expression. Shy, yet proud. The cheeky grin was all Sarah.

Chuck lean in for the kiss, and stage whispered "That is the last time I show you Young Frankenstein, missy"

Sarah pulled a sad face "Voof" she complained, before joining in with Chuck's grin.

"So, any follow up to last night?" Chuck asked, ignoring Lester's expression.

Sarah took the opportunity to whisper (much closer, and sexier than absolutely needed) into Chuck's ear "We just have to wait for the Fulcrum guys to pop back up" she stood back and checked in a normal voice "OK?"

Chuck did his little 'post Sarah whisper' shiver as his goose-bumps subsided. "Yeah."

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.<strong> The Dalek scene comes from BBC Radio 4's "The News Quiz." In January, I foolishly made the error of listening to that segment of the podcast on a crowded train. God know what sounds I made, but I was certainly shaking in attempt to not laugh out loud, and there were tears. People moved away from me...

And, I'm not slow. I'm special... I've only just discovered I've been nominated (first round) in seven (seven!) categories of this years 'Awesomes'. Awesome! Looking at the other nominees, I'm impressed. Somehow, I got mixed up with real writers... Shhh – don't tell anyone.

To all who nominated me – a very, very humble thankyou. Please vote for who you think is the best for each category.


	3. Chapter 3

-o0o-

The McGrath foundation is a real breast cancer foundation. If you are in the position to donate any amount to any similar foundation or charity, please do so. Jane is the reason our cricketers have pink handles to their bats.

On another serious note, I read Armadilloi passed away in his sleep recently. Nic, our thoughts are with you. Jim was one of my favourite authors, and one of the reasons I do more than just read on this site.

-o0o-

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

"Chuck!" Sarah hissed angrily.

The articulation 'Chuck' is not an easy one to hiss, there being a basic lack of sibilances. But Chuck's secret girlfriend had mastered the art sometime ago. Before she'd become his secret girlfriend, if Chuck was to be brutally honest.

Oh, and she may have used her fingernails, pinching into his side, to augment her desire for his undivided attention.

Chuck diverted his focus from _The Two Towers_ DVD Casa Bartowski was currently watching.

'_Oh crap! She figured it out!'_ was his horrified thought when he saw her expression. Chuck was in trouble now...

"Is _this_ why you had the giggles the other night?" Sarah demanded in an angry whisper, pointing at the TV.

Naturally she was angry. He'd had a fit of the giggles at a completely inappropriate time. They'd finished a mission, and being the hour it was, had gone back to her place.

Their hungry kissing as soon as they got in the door developed into something more. As she started getting him into bed, she needed to remove any potential hazards to his health. It was after she removed the fourth weapon he started to laugh.

It was now, watching a Dwarf, an Elf and a Man being divested of a whole lot of sharp pointy things before they would be allowed into the Golden Hall of Rohan, that she got it.

"Is this...?" she gestured again to the TV.

Chuck didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded quickly. His eyes brimming with tears of laughter. He knew he was in _serious_ trouble, and with his sister and Devon present there was nothing Sarah could do. Which somehow made the eventual and inevitable retaliation _so_ much more... _deliciously_ dangerous.

After the movie, the small extended family prepared for their beds. Devon (and Ellie, and Casey via video link) had picked Chuck's mirth, and Sarah's frustrated ire. Devon gave Chuck a smirk that read as '_Angry make up sex. Awesome.'_

Once alone, as signified by Sarah closing the door loudly and firmly, Chuck burst out laughing.

"Ss...sss...Sarah, I'm sss...ssso sorry. It just hit me... and I couldn't sss...sstop..."

"You realise you compared me to a Dwarf!"

"No! Nononononono!"

She glared at him.

Chuck, babbling frantically now, tried to describe it as something called 'a positive reinforcement feedback loop' before Sarah was able to distract him by removing her top.

Chuck whirled around to face the other way as soon as her lacy bra hove into view. Being at his home, the video surveillance prevented Devon's assessment. A fact Sarah planned on using to her advantage.

He was an idiot but, he would take time to reminder her that, he was _her_ idiot.

-o0o-

"Um, guys?" his eyes flew open "I know Kung Fu!" Morgan declared in his best Bruce Lee pose, which Chuck sadly thought was rather more accurately from Karate Kid II.

And put him in mind of Ralph Malph instead of Ralph Macchio.

"And I have a black belt in macramé" was Chuck's dry response.

Morgan dropped his foot "Actually, no, I think I might still actually have that. I forgot to return it when I borrowed it when we tried to double date the Esposito sist...ers..." Morgan trailed off, looking at Chuck in horror.

"And we agreed to _never _speak of that particular ...'event'... ever ag..."

"Oh, now I just have to know _all _about that" interrupted a musical voice, and the true reason Morgan was staring in horror.

"Sarah!" Chuck squeaked as he whipped around in surprise.

They both ignored the "Not a sound I expect to hear from a grown man" emanate from the middle distance.

She leant in close "Event?" she whispered her reminder into his ear.

Chuck smiled after a quick hello kiss "Or episode. Panic attack! Yes, panic attack, that probably best covers..." Chuck glanced at Morgan, who stood stock still with his eyes closed. Eventually Morgan tilted his head in a semi shrug and held up two fingers. "Yes, panic attack. _Simultaneous_ panic attacks. We'll call it that. And how are you today?" concluded Chuck in a desperate attempt to distract a dangerously fully qualified field CIA operative that Chuck was painfully aware had seven lethal weapons currently secreted about her person. She made him watch as she'd positioned them, this morning.

"Event" she reminded him so he would know that the distraction did not quite work. Obviously, since she now had her arms folded, and looked like she was a heart beat away from the toe tapping stage of the festivities.

"Um... perhaps... we should continue this line of conversation later" Chuck eyed the circling Lester. He could smell fear. Jeff could smell beer. And often smelled of beer, but Lester had a _'I see scared people'_ kind of sixth sense. "Some of us would like to think we have some dignity to protect."

Morgan opened his mouth, but Chuck beat him to it "Or have recently acquired _some_ dignity, and rather feel good about it." Morgan's mouth closed. Chuck returned his attention back to Sarah, where it belonged "And would like to maintain said quo as a regular status."

"Mmm hmm"

Chuck felt that Sarah's toe tapping phase had eased off a tad "Let's just say it didn't go well. At all. And we both had to stand up on the bus home, since we were wearing shorts soaked in something..." he leaned in to whisper to her in what he truly hoped was his sexiest breath "...fruity and alcoholic."

OK, so Sarah didn't shiver like he did when she did it to him. But her eyes were showing amusement.

"Hi" he began again "Did you... find that band we saw the other night?"

"Not yet, but I think I found somewhere you _can_ take me tonight" she replied with a sideways smile.

Ah, a mission. Naturally. "Step into my office and we'll discuss this" Chuck took her hand as they went to the home cinema display room.

There was no actual lock, but the clever boys and girls of the Burbank Buy More had taken that as a personal challenge. For the past three years, a hidden latch – known only to _all_ the staff except for Big Mike, and only operable from the inside of the room – performed the task of isolating the room from prying eyes.

Chuck turned around after closing the door, and found his girlfriend in his arms.

"So nothing from the Fulcrum team?" he asked after she released his lips.

"You really know how to sweet talk a girl" she grinned, keeping her arms around his neck "No, they seem to be keeping a low profile at the moment. But something else came up. We've been tasked to babysit some dignitary at the McGrath Foundation charity event tonight."

Chuck opened his mouth.

"It's for breast cancer. And yes, this is Beckman annoyed with us for the helicopter night" Sarah supplied.

Chuck closed his mouth. And then "Babysit?" found its way out.

"Bunch of dignitaries and what not. Black tie event. How hard can it be?"

Chuck actually winced "Have you been paying _any _attention during the last two years? Because it seems anytime _we_ go somewhere nice..."

"Meet me in Castle after work, I'll have your tux ready" she said after silencing his lips with hers.

-o0o-

Chuck was still having trouble with the bowtie after ten minutes. He was beginning to regret what Casey now referred to as 'the hissy fit' incident, and stayed with the clip-on. He spotted an amused pair of amazing blue eyes in the mirror. Sarah had snuck up behind him. Again.

Chuck turned, and his pleased cry of her name died a silent death.

Sarah had taken the 'little black dress' to a whole new dimension. After thirty seconds of unrecognisable articulations, his frontal cortex was able to form a partial sentence "Holy...bird...fu..."

"Thanks" she said with a genuinely shy Sarah smile, and then stepped in closer. "Let me" she said as she focused on the bowtie. In truth, she had the job done in seconds, but she allowed her hands to stay on him for a lot longer. She looked up into his eyes with a straight face, and said "Dapper."

"Thankyou. And _you_ look amazing" he replied, not moving his gaze from her eyes.

*Grunt* (one of the ones in the mid thirties, Chuck hadn't been paying attention for some reason) came from outside the room.

"Time to go" said Chuck.

"Mmm hmm"

-o0o-

When they got to the charity event, there was already a reasonable crowd. Ostensibly, their mission was to provide security for some Hollywood ingénue Chuck had never heard of. He began to realise that Beckman might have been disappointed with them over the whole 'divert a Chinook, and then a Hercules' for them the other week.

The team met with the teeny-bop starlet slash pop singer before arriving at the charity event. Chuck (and Casey, and the starlet) noticed that Sarah stood _just_ a little bit closer to Chuck when they first met.

The ... healthy... young lady seemed to be referred to as Syreena. Chuck was reminded of a Monty Python scene about another young lady that could be described as owning acreage.

Casey was volunteered to ride with Syreena in the limo, after Sarah commandeered the Suburban without discussion. Chuck was dragged into the 'almost NSA' Suburban that the cover security company had provided.

Sarah referred to her detail at first as 'Styreena' then 'Styrofoam' and finally 'Squeakyfoam' (owing to, Chuck had admit, her immensely annoying laugh) for the rest of the evening.

Casey had a _bad_ expression. A similar expression can be seen on the male portion of the audience sitting through a Hugh Grant marathon as they sit beside their wives, girlfriends or mistresses.

Chuck grinned, and then caught Sarah's expression. She wasn't happy either. When Chuck took her hand, she glared at him, and then softened. Chuck mimed killing the earwigs, so they both deactivated coms.

"Sarah? Are you upset about the mission tonight? Or the..." he thumbed over his shoulder at the following limo.

"Stupid, McBimbo brunet skanky skan..."

"I love you. You, Sarah Walker"

"Hmmph, she makes eyes at you again..."

"...and I'll never know. Because I'm in love. With you. Remember?" he risked a grin at her, and was rewarded with a small smile.

"Come on, let's spend an evening protecting Squeaky McBimbo McFoam from being groped more than her publicist wants her to be" he concluded once the coms were back on.

There came a very dejected grunt over the radio.

When they got to the hotel where the event was happening, Chuck discovered that having security guards to keep paparazzi away, had the opposite effect. It let the paparazzi know there was someone worth paparazzi-ing.

Young miss Syreena knew how to work an audience. She used the low cut dress as she stooped further forward that was needed to show those... talents to the waiting press. In the papers the following day, she was often cited as a reason for finding a cure for breast cancer.

In the frenzy of flash photography erupting around them, Chuck didn't quite know what to do. If he positioned himself between Sarah and Miss Whats-her-boobs, he could save one life, but at the risk of his own. If he allowed Sarah to stay between himself and Styrofoam, there was the risk that McBimbo and the world's press would hear what Sarah was muttering.

Casey, desperate to get away from _all_ of them, saved the day. He just simply barged into, and forged a path through the paparazzi. Chuck followed in the wake of the large angry paparazzi-breaker. Sarah a pace behind Chuck.

Syreena, her publicist, make up assistant and a gopher slash unspecified job description named 'Bob' realised they were being left behind, and needed to trot to catch up with their own protection detail.

Media analysts would later demonstrate that _this_ was the moment that _made_ Syreena.

This was the time the world learned of the young unknown starlet, and turn her into the jaded, twice rehabbed, thrice married, Oscar nominated (never winning for an actual film), victim of three carefully timed 'stolen' sex tapes and Grammy winning 'name' known the world over.

The lovingly slowed down footage of Syreena's breasts bouncing individually as she trotted behind her own security detail became a huge hit on several video casting sites, and also something of a must-have rite of passage for male teenagers over the next seven years.

The publicist decided Chuck was the safest to speak to, and thanked him and his team for getting them inside in record time. Chuck was blissfully unaware she was being sarcastic. As had been previously arraigned, Syreena and her entourage would work the room from now on. The security detail could take a discreet distance, while still keeping an eye on their task.

The room was thus full of large men in suits and earpieces hovering in the wings, eyeing the crowd, as the glitterati mingled in a air of faked sincerity and tans. Chuck bumped into the man standing behind him "Oh... ah..." he started to apologise

"...Glenn McGrath" the man said to him, smiling at some private joke, with crinkles around his eyes. He was taller that Chuck, not a common occurrence. Older, and he had obviously spent time outdoors. "Thankyou for coming. Are you bidding in the auction later?" he added, holding his hand out.

Chuck realised he had some sort of nasally accent. Chuck shook his hand automatically "Ummm, I'm just... security" Chuck pointed vaguely over his shoulder "Sorry, are you something to do with the charity?"

"Something" said the man, smiling again, before a stunningly beautiful woman with an Italian accent interrupted with an apology "Glenn, sorry, you must meet..." she dragged him off to meet some VIPs Chuck had never heard of. From the man's expression, neither had he.

-o0o-

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

I don't own Chuck et al. I did have seven nominations in the current **Awesomes** at one stage... but someone found out. I'm currently down to just the one.

(Stares fixedly at camera and speaks in monotone) "It-is-an-honour-just-to-have-been–nom-in-ated."

In all honestly, truly it has been an honour.

I only found out about **Chuck** one year ago, this month. And been a member here for a bit over six months, and to have even been _remotely_ considered in comparison to the real nominees – I quote a fellow nominee – "Holy Crap!"

To all who nominated, and voted,

Thank you.

-o0o-


	4. Chapter 4

-o0o-

I don't own Chuck et al.

I do however have a wife that makes me giggle a lot. She's supposed to just glare at me when I do that, right?

-o0o-

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

"Chuck!" came her voice over the radio.

He dragged his attention away from the most eye-catching, beautiful, sexy object he'd ever seen...

"Focus, Chuck" Sarah was standing over there, and looking like a professional security guard, but the secret girlfriend inside of her had her metaphorical hands on her metaphorical hips.

"...Aaah...but..." nope, she was already in motion.

When she got beside him, she let him know "No! You are _not_ getting a TV that big."

"...it's so...beauti..."

"What is it with guys and TV attention disorder?"

Oh, he couldn't let that just pass... Morgan and Devon would disown him... He let his gaze drift back to the screen that wouldn't have looked out of place in a sporting arena, and let himself ask "..Wha...?" in a distracted manner.

He caught her before she could react, and danced an eyebrow or two.

"Very funny. Back to work"

"Yes dear. Uh. ma-am" he corrected himself with a smirk. She moved silently away, resuming her observation once her left eyebrow had resumed its normal position.

The charity auction was in several stages, including sporting memorabilia of various codes and a Wii game with the man Chuck had bumped into earlier along with two other, older men sporting _serious_ moustaches called Merv and Boonie. Chuck wasn't all that certain if the names referred to the men, or the moustaches.

Chuck tried to ignore the game being played. He'd been mildly interested, purely because it involved a computer game. And possibly also by that screen... It was calling to him...

Chuck scanned the room, and found their protectee, Styree... um, Syreena. She was engaging a group waiting to play next. Syreena seemed to wiggle an awful lot when she talked to men.

As he kept scanning the room, he noted a lot of wives, girlfriends and/or mistresses were standing closer to their men than Chuck felt what was normal for them.

The game involved throwing a virtual ball in a windmill action like they threw grenades in old war films. The virtual batting was more like a golf swing than anything Chuck could think of, but Chuck wasn't really much of a sports fan. When it came Syreena's turn at bat, both moustaches tried to coach her on her stance. Syreena seemed to want to lean further forward (combined with her annoying giggle) a lot more than was absolutely needed. Another flurry of flash photography ensued. The official photographer seemed to have found a muse for this evening...

Chuck smiled to himself over her attention seeking behaviour, and as always any thought of women lead Chuck to think of just the one incredible and amazing woman. While Chuck had seen Sarah display coquettish behaviour during missions, any Sarah was far more _real_. The woman he loved was better than, but not above using her God given talents, which were _far_ more desirable than the pair currently almost on display over there. Even in her dizziest persona, there was still _more_ there, more personality. More _Sarah_ than miss plastic surgery 2008 over there would ever have.

And even it was a little scary, OK more that a little scary, to have Sarah act 'protectively' over him, it was also a little more Sarah than he'd seen previously. Just a little bit of 'real person' insecurity, like everyone had, even Sarah, he was pleased to note. He wished they were alone, so he could remind her he loved her.

Automatically Chuck scanned to room for Sarah. Practically everyone was watching the batting display, or at least some sort of display in the middle, as Syreena swung her controller, along with some other bits. Chuck found it amusing, most of the men were just staring vacantly, the women were glaring at either McBimbo, or their male companions.

He found Sarah, a little further down the room from him. She hadn't been watching the middle, she'd been watching him. He grinned at her, and was rewarded by a cute Sarah 'quick-smile-but-Casey-could-be-watching-us' smile.

That was when he saw the other pair of eyes not watching the middle. He was behind Sarah, staring at her.

Sarah reacted to Chuck's expression, and Casey reacted to Sarah's.

'_Walker, what's wrong?'_

'_Chuck? Did you flash? What's wron... um...'_

The 'um' indicates the moment when she felt the gun nudge into her lower ribs. She heard a voice behind her quietly say "Agent Walker, that is a gun pressing into your left kidney. Keep your hands behind your back, where I can see then. Say nothing. You will come with me quietly"

Casey called _'Chuck, keep eyes on Walker, he may have made you, but I don't think he's seen me yet. Do not respond."_

Chuck moved casually through the thinning crowd away from the auction, following Sarah and the man with the gun as they moved to a service door.

-o0o-

Chuck walked stiffly into the alley way. How had it come to pass that he was becoming way too familiar with some of the finest or in other words dank, dark and dangerous alleyways in Greater Los Angeles? He held his arms in tight has he held the 'hands up' pose "Excuse me, so sorry. If I could..."

The gunman held Sarah in a choke hold while he swung the gun out to now point at Chuck.

"What, dipshit?" was his witty re-joiner.

Sarah once again proved her mastery of hissing a complete sentence in this case, without any 'esses' in it. "Chuck, what are you _doing_?"

She may have also added 'teeth clenched' for good measure.

Chuck moved closer "Sorry, sorry. It's just... Look, I don't mean to take too much of your time" he said to the man pointing a gun at him "Sorry. Um, Sarah, when you're done here, we've got transport for" Chuck pointed as best he could, what with his hands still up, at the gunman "Our friend here. Sorry. Oh, and what's-her-face, the publicist... Zoe? Was it Zoe? Or Phyllis... never mind. You're busy, I get that. She said we should be ready in fifteen or so... Sorry" he concluded to the gunman "Oh, and you really don't want to do that."

To the gunman's credit, he didn't actually look at Sarah and frame the words 'What the...' but Chuck had the feeling that was what he wanted to do.

After a moment, he changed tactics, and thrust Sarah into Chuck, where they clung together in order to stay upright. "You killed my partner. My turn" he said to Sarah before advancing on, and pressing the gun into Chuck's forehead.

"At the risk of repeating myself, you _really_ don't want to do that" Chuck stated almost calmly.

The gunman just stared at Chuck in bemusement.

His bemusement then transferred to the tranq dart now sticking out of the back of the ball of his thumb, like some Decepticon Tsetse fly. Sarah grabbed the gun before anything nasty could happen, and stared at his collapsed body with a feral grin.

She may have assisted his collapse with what was the most blatant head-but to an elbow that Chuck had ever seen, on or off a sporting field.

"Told you. Why is it that bad guys never listen to me?" Chuck asked the world in general "Casey, you never have to repeat yourself, how come I have to?" Chuck asked the large NSA agent who had been standing behind the gunman.

Other that Sarah's quick smile, the world ignored Chuck's question.

"Who is he Chuck?" Casey did want to know.

"How the hell should I... Oh, the Intersect, right. Sorry, no flashes" he looked at his erstwhile fellow captive "Sarah?"

"Um, I guess I killed his partner... This might be from before..." she glanced at Chuck.

"Let's get him out of here, and then get back inside" said Casey, dragging the unconscious man behind him.

Back on the street, there was a real NSA Suburban waiting for them. Chuck had been serious about transport being organised for him. The agents took the unconscious man from Casey.

Before Sarah could react, Casey was in the back with his captive "I'll start the interrogation" where his last words before he locked himself inside the Suburban. With a somewhat un-Casey-esque smile as Sarah – lets not say frantically, we'll call it 'decisively' – tested the door handle, all the while calling for his attention by gently banging on the window with the handgrip of her newly acquired pistol.

As the black Suburban sped off, with Casey waiving cheerily, she cried "No!"

Chuck noted that she did so in a long, drawn out manner that seemed to involve a lot more vowels than are normally associated with that word.

When she turned to face Chuck, a perfectly calm Sarah Walker said "Let's go, Chuck" before leading him back inside at the same pace Casey had set the first time they went in.

-o0o-

Back inside the charity event, their young charge was ready to depart for her next photo op at a night club. Her biggest problem seemed to be that her security escort(s) had gone AWOL.

The publicist, Zoe, or possibly Phyllis, started saying "Where have you been? We've been..." before the look on Sarah's face caused her to falter and her comment about 'on the job boy toy benefits' died a quiet death.

"Where's the big guy? No offence, but he looks more like security than your tall geek. Where did you find him anyway, working retail?" Phyllis, or Zoe, tried to establish dominance again. Blondie was just a guard, assuming that she was a blonde. This is California, after all.

Sarah called the limo driver on her phone, and then organised for the agency to pick up the non-NSA Suburban she and Chuck had used earlier. There was no way she was letting Chuck ride in the limo with McBimbo alone. And Sarah was honest enough with herself to admit if she let Chuck drive the Suburban alone, there might be bloodshed in the limo.

Once all were safely (a relative term, Chuck soon discovered) in the limo, and on their way to the night spot, Syreena wanted to know "Where's the other guy?"

"Something came up. Chuck, watch the traffic."

Chuck then spent the next twenty minutes with two women able to both glare and, at the same time, completely ignore each other. The dentist chair was now looking favourable as a holiday destination. He watched the traffic furiously.

Once they reached the night spot, which Chuck misread as 'El Buffo' at first, there was a repeat of the 'blitz through the paparazzi' from earlier. Just not quite as bad, there being only one paparazzi available at the time.

Syreena (and her entourage), by dint of being young, photogenic and possessing quite visible huge...'tracts of land' was able to bypass the dreaded velvet rope, Chuck's nemesis for lo these many years. Although, he suspected having one Sarah Walker on his arm from now on might just trump the dread rope slash clipboard.

Chuck flashed three times inside the club. Two of these were gentlemen paying court to Syreena. Nothing spectacular, all for suspected drug links, all low(ish) level. He let Sarah know so she could pass on to the relevant authorities. Sarah sent a text to Casey, the volume in the club prohibiting a phone call of this nature.

Casey replied to her text '_Report Castle ASAP. Replacement en-route.'_

Ten minutes later, Chuck was reminded of his first 'date' with Sarah when he saw the three goons that had been poured into their suits. They may as well have worn bullet proof vests stencilled in fluorescent yellow 'N.S.A.'

Apparently, they didn't have a problem with the velvet rope either.

Sarah briefed the goons on their detail while Chuck found the publicist to let her know there was a change in plans.

"Our shift is over, these guys are our replacements"

"What, the big guy has brothers?"

-o0o-

Once back at Castle, Casey was his normal diplomatic self.

"You didn't kill her did you?"

The general came on line wither her usual lack of prior warning and began "Agent Walker, we have a problem. We've identified the gunman who attacked you as Brian Korf."

Chuck flashed. Footage of Bryce and Sarah in a 'dance of death' as they fight off a group intending them harm.

The general continued "Agent Larkin and you dealt with his cell three years ago. If he has found you, then it's possible others from that cell may also be looking for you. Agent Walker, we need to place you in a secure position until this matter is resolved. You will sleep in Castle for the foreseeable future. Major Casey, assign one of the cells for agent Walker to use. We may need to reassign you if need be."

Chuck and Sarah glanced quickly at each other.

"Um..." said two higher pitched voices.

-o0o-


	5. Chapter 5

-o0o-

I don't own Chuck et al.

-o0o-

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

"Chuck! How was your date?"

"Um, fine thanks, sis." Chuck said to Ellie as he closed the door. He'd hesitated and his sister, naturally, had picked up on it.

"Chuck? What's wrong?"

Chuck knew his bloodhound of a sister. Once she had the scent, she wouldn't let go. Chuck had to make something up. Quickly.

"Sarah... Sarah got a phone call. She's had to go back east for a bit..." thinking furiously, he found a plausible invention "... her father. Sick, so she needed to..."

Chuck thought to himself that this really should have been covered before he came home. You know, spy contingency plans and what not.

"Chuck, is she all right? She's flying out tomorrow, right? Maybe she should stay here tonight."

"Sarah's fine. She went back to pack, but she said..."

"Chuck! Sarah's special. You know it. When she says that, you ignore it. That's the _one time_ you do! Go back to her. Help her pack. Be_ there_ for her."

"...but..."

"Go!" as she handed him his little orange bobble key-ring, and practically pushed Chuck back out the door.

Chuck dragged his heels as he wandered back through the courtyard. As he drew level, Casey's door opened, and the large man joined him on his way to the street.

"Uh, Casey, Ellie's... Sarah... I told Ellie that Sarah had to go back east. In a hurry. Now she's..."

"I heard" he glanced back at the apartment "Smart woman, your sister. But she's right."

"Huh?"

"Numbnuts, if" and the way Casey said 'if' made Chuck narrow his eyes a little "you were able to land a woman like Walker, and this happened, you should be there. Right now, you've only got three options. One, you can drive around LA all night and pretend you went over there. I wouldn't like that, I'd have to follow you. Two, go to Walker's hotel, and cry yourself to sleep in her bed. Probably not for the first time" Casey added a sardonic grunt "Or three, go spend the night in Castle. That way we all get some sleep, and your cover's safe with your sister."

"...um, thanks Casey, that's surprisingly ..."

"And _that_ way you're still on camera. I can make sure you don't do anything you're not supposed to."

"...con...sistent. Right."

"I'm watching you Bartowski. Always watching you."

"Did you ever do any voice work over at Pix... Ahhh... Good night! See you."

-o0o-

"Chuck? What are you doing here?"

"You can thank my sister. And the fact we failed to consider what would happen if you got ordered to stay in Castle. She spotted my expression, and so I told her you had to go back home, your father was sick. And apparently that makes me a bad boyfriend if I let you pack by yourself. She practically forced me" he spread his hands.

"Forced you, huh?" Sarah asked with one eyebrow lifted a dangerous three millimetres.

"I had to think quickly, alright?" the hands tucked themselves (very quickly) back in, and he half started a 'Morgan.'

Sarah grinned at him "Well, she's right. Of course. What time am I supposed to be flying out?"

"I think we need to look that up, so I can drop you off, and make sure you have a safe flight." Chuck air quoted the last two words. "Seriously, since I'm here, do you need anything?"

"No, there's frozen meals and I've got some clothes already here. Besides, with me in lock-down, you can't leave, and I can't let you out of my sight."

"What if I want a shower?"

"Don't push your luck, mister" she said with a pretty straight face.

"Come on" she said, leading him into the equipment storage area of Castle. They grabbed a camp bed, blanket and pillow. Then they headed back to the holding cell that Sarah had picked out for herself. "We can at least share a cosy two cot, two bath cell..."

"Two cot...?" he tried the 'one-eyebrow' thing, failing miserably as always. Dancing, he owned the patent on that, but a 'Spock?' not even close.

"Yeah, well maintaining cover wasn't really on the CIA's to-do list" she positioned herself so her expression was hidden from the camera.

She left him to get changed for bed. When she came back in, she was wearing an oversized tee-shirt. Chuck recognised it instantly. The last time he'd seen it, it was in his room, still in its wrapper, having _never_ been opened. Chuck opened his mouth to say something, but then wisely decided that the Ewok and Chewie's argument over being 'a little short for a Wookie' looked better on Sarah than they ever did wrapped in plastic.

Once they were in their cots, he faced her, and said "Sarah, I'm sorry I blew it. I should have come up with a better..."

Sarah laced her fingers through his, "Don't, we should have had a cover story ready for you. You did fine. Better that fine, really. And it's sweet that Ellie reacted that way... It's good for our cover. I'm just sorry you got stuck in here tonight. Good night, Chuck."

"'Night Sar..." his yawn blocked the tail-end of her name, and was contagious.

After a few minutes, he realised she still was holding his hand. But he was asleep by then.

-o0o-

Chuck woke up. Sarah was already up, making her cot. He grinned to himself a little as she bent over to tuck in the corner. Then he remembered the camera, and quickly looked away with a suitable expression.

"Morning Chuck" was her bight greeting. She knew he was awake.

"Morning Sarah" he replied, only two octaves higher than normal, still facing away from the view of a very small amount of pink fabric. And the view down through her loose top to get to that flash of pink lace, a part of Chuck's mind pointed out.

Chuck rather felt that he needed to have a little talk about timing to that rebellious part of his own mind.

After Chuck had his shower, timed well after hers, Chuck went in search of Sarah and breakfast. He found her in the main ops area.

There was no real dining area, so they used the smaller conference room for breakfast. Sarah was spreading something _very_ black onto her toast.

"...Yuck!... Ohhh, get it off! Get it off! It _burns._.." cried Chuck as he bounced in frantic jumpy circles after he'd tried some of her black goo.

"Wuss" smiled Sarah as she nibbled a corner of her breakfast.

"Gah! You could use that to get recalcitrant agents to talk! Double Gah!" he added after drinking straight from the milk carton in attempt to wash away the taste. Only to find a worse one. He looked at the milk carton "Long life? Really?"

She was still smiling at his 'bad chutney' interpretive dance. Maybe she could have warned him... but where was the fun in that?

Chuck found some healthy and good for you type of breakfast cereal. It wasn't hard to find, it being the only option. She laughed at him as he pondered the beige bran based breakfast on the table, and the carton of long life milk still in his hand.

"How is it even remotely possible for a yogurt shop to not have any milk? Even the watery light stuff?"

"Shut up and eat your beige bran, Chuck. Or I'll make you some vegemite toast."

"Yum. Bran! And ... and ... this..." he looked at the faux milk carton. Again.

It got better. There was only instant coffee. And sugar didn't seem to be available.

As he sipped his straight black unwillingly, he looked up into her eyes that seemed to find him highly amusing, and said "Have I thanked you lately for keeping me out of a bunker?"

Sip of the black, unsugared instant. Dramatic pause. Shudder. "Thank you."

"Espresso machine!" he suddenly blurted "We need a proper coffee machine down here."

"Chuck..."

"You can't go out, and instant is just ... wrong."

"I'll be fine, Chuck" she tried to hide her smile.

Chuck began to clean up the breakfast dishes, and pack the toaster and condiments away while Sarah began a search of suitable time for her hypothetical flight. As Chuck was wiping his hands on the cloth, his phone rang.

"Ellie, hi"

'_Chuck, how's Sarah?'_

"She's good, and yes you were right. We're just doing a last sweep before..." Sarah was standing in front of him, smiling and with her hand out for the phone "...hang on, here's Sarah."

"Ellie, hi. Thanks for sending your idiot brother over. No, he's fine. He knows to do the right thing" Sarah locked eyes with Chuck "Just sometimes he needs a nudge."

'_Yeah, he's an idiot, but I don't want him to loose you. How's your father? Do you know what's wrong?'_

"Not much chance of that. Heart I think. He's stable, I think they'll let him out in a day or so, but I could be over there for a few weeks..."

'_Look, I've got to start rounds soon, so I have to go. Let us know when you get there. If you have any questions, Devon and I will be...'_

"Just a phone call away. I know" she kept Chuck's eyes in her steady gaze "And I'm pretty sure I'll be ringing every night..."

'_Why doesn't that surprise me? Look, sorry I've got to go. Tell Chuck when he comes home to keep it quiet. Devon, the poor lamb, will be home in an hour, and asleep thirty seconds later.'_

"I'll let him know. Thanks Ellie. I'll see you when I get back" Sarah pressed 'end' with a smile. "Your sister is off to the hospital, and Devon will be asleep when you get home, so be very, very quiet."

"I'm hunting wabbits. Awesome. You do realise that means I really don't have to go home until this evening..."

The conference screen came to life, as usual, with zero warning and Casey said "...So that means you two can make a start on searching for Korf's known associates. I'll join you in an hour."

He hung up the conference screen in the same courteous manner that Beckman used.

"Must be an army thing. Military, NSA, I know, I know" Chuck said before Sarah could correct him. He turned to her "Sarah, I hope I haven't... Is it OK I said your father? I mean I don't want to upset ..."

"Chuck, its fine. It's a good cover actually. And this way, if something happens later, I have an existing cover to use. And it's much better than your earlier effort..."

"Spastic colon..." Chuck relived the horror "...Yeah... sorry about that... I don't ... under pressure, and Ellie..."

"Is your sister. Come on, let's get started."

They began searching the files for Korf's old German agency cell. As they began to print out documents, Sarah pointed out they might need more paper from the storage closet. Chuck gallantly offered to help her. It took twenty minutes to bring the paper back.

Actually it only took three minutes, because the first time they got back to the desk, they realised that they'd forgotten the paper, but they were at their desk when Casey joined them.

*Grunt*

"Morning Casey" the two chorused.

*Grunt*

-o0o-

Chuck got back to Echo Park after four in the afternoon. The good captain was still crashed out on the living room couch, in his scrub pants, his shirt on the floor beside him. Chuck wondered vaguely how many people did actually have an aversion to clothing...

Devon stirred at the sound of Chuck trying to sneak quietly past him "...oh hey Chuckster..."

"Sorry Devon, go back to sleep."

"I saw El before I came home. Sarah OK?" came his voice from beneath the forearm over his face.

"Yeah, she should be landing soon. I just needed to wander, you know..."

"I hear you bro..."

Sarah, watching the apartment back in Castle, rang Chuck's phone. Chuck smiled as he answered.

"Hey Sarah, hang on. Sorry Devon, I'll take this in my room. You get some sleep...Sarah? Sorry. How was your flight..." Chuck said as he headed for his room.

'_And we have an audience. Who is now back asleep.'_

"Sarah, I'm sorry we didn't find anything on Korf..."

'_It's OK, Chuck'_

"What if we don't find anything? You're either stuck down there as the world's prettiest troglodyte, or you get re-assign..."

'_Chuck, it's alright. We'll find something.'_

"Yeah, but I'm at home now. So there's nothing I can do to help."

'_Well, we have some time. We've got your lunch time tomorrow. And Casey can bring any documents over for you to flash on.'_

"Yeah, I really need to have the back of my head grabbed while he shoves paperwork into my face."

The grunt that was closer to a chuckle than a grunt drifted across the courtyard through the Morgan door.

'_OK, I'll call you tonight. Ellie gets home about eleven, right?'_

-o0o-

Chuck tried to play a game on his computer, tried to read some fanfiction, tried to read a book, tried to read a comic book, and lastly tried to sleep but nothing distracted him. Sarah rang him up

'_If you don't stop pacing, Casey will come over there and tranq you.'_

"It's just..."

'_I'm not kidding. His indoor range just activated. He'd better be using tranqs, or...that's better. Sit. Watch some TV, OK? I'll call when Ellie gets home.'_

Chuck looked up from where he'd sat on the edge of his bed at where he assumed the camera was. Gave her a tight smile "OK" and hung up.

Devon came around when Chuck was cooking dinner. He excused himself and had a shower before assisting Chuck with the steaks. That meant he got two beers from the fridge to share with Chuck as they waited for the meat.

Sarah watched the video feed with her mouth watering at the thought of real steak. Cooking meat brought out the caveman. Even in Chuck, Sarah noted as she listened to he and Devon have a conversation that was mainly in grunt.

Sarah mused that even guys like Chuck and Devon weren't that far up the evolutionary ladder from a Stone Age Casey camp fire. All it took was beer, meat and a purely male environment. They were gentlemen enough to cook enough for Ellie when she came home, she noted.

Even Devon's asking after Sarah's father's mitral valve seemed to be a little more downscale than normal.

Sarah nuked her flash frozen ration so she could (sort of) dine with the boys. She was please to note that after dinner, Chuck had calmed down and was able to watch TV with Devon without pacing. After her dinner, Sarah tried to work her way through the Korf documents. And then the Fulcrum mission they'd been on previously. The GPS chip guided munitions. These guys seemed to have gone to ground. There was nothing newer than two weeks ago.

Sarah sighed. There was nothing to do. No data she could find. But she had to do something.

Eventually the tracker in Ellie's car alerted Sarah that Ellie was on the move. She checked on the boys. Devon was engrossed in some documentary about a zoo in New Zealand. Chuck was half watching, half playing his gameboy thingy. When Ellie was parking her car, she rang Chuck.

"Hey..." she relaxed the shoulders she hadn't been aware were tense at the sound of his voice.

'_Hi Chuck. Ellie's about to walk in the door'_

"So you're in your old room, huh?"

'_That's good. I tried to find something in the data we collected today, but...'_

"I wish I was there to help. Hey sis!" he called out to Ellie when she came through the door "El just got home. You have great timing Sarah"

Ellie kissed Devon distractedly "Is that Sarah? May I...? Hi Sarah, how's your father?"

'_Dad's OK. They want to keep him in for observation another night, but from the sounds of things it's not too serious.'_

"Did you find out..."

'_Well I was a little distracted. And normally I can ask my boyfriend's family any medical q...'_

"Oh, Sarah. I'm sorry. You must've been sick with worry." Ellie pulled a 'sorry face' at Chuck.

'_I'm OK now. I just wish I was home with you guys. I'll try to get some medically appropriate technical report for you guys tomorrow, OK?'_

"OK, but I'm pretty sure you want to speak to... hang on, here's Chuck" Ellie handed the phone back to Chuck.

"Hey" he grinned into the phone as he wandered back to his bedroom, while Ellie found her dinner, and began reheating it.

-o0o-

Monday morning (the next day) at 0758 the alarm on the home theatre room access activated. Sarah raced to the camera feed, but there was no activity.

Curious, but cautious she advanced down the corridor with her pistol ready at 'low port.' There was no-one. No-one at all. But there was a brown paper bag and a tall paper coffee cup on the top step of the ladder.

On her way back to main ops, Sarah smiled to herself as she nibbled on the still-warm croissant.

-o0o-

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

**A.N.** Do not give me a hard time about Vegemite (or Promite or Marmite). I've tried Nutella. Once was more than enough...

-o0o-


	6. Chapter 6

-o0o-

I don't own Chuck et al. Nor do I have anything to do with the brand named pizza franchise mentioned for no apparent reason other than a hypothetical location.

**Caution:** This chapter contains nudity and adult concepts.

And that's like trying to scare ants away from a picnic by scattering sugar on the ground...

(Oh, alright. For 'adult concepts' that should probably read as 'teenaged boy concepts.')

* * *

><p>"Chuck!" she whispered as she lunged at the overhead, from her point of view, hatch in the theatre room floor to kiss him. It had taken her until Wednesday to catch her 'breakfast elf' as he left, this time an apricot Danish, something yummy for her at the top of the stairs. Those breakfast elves could be sneaky and hard to catch, Sarah had discovered.<p>

Chuck was caught on his knees, his head down in the hole with Sarah holding his lips with hers. "Morning" he was eventually able to reply with just a hint of a smugness about him, despite his face turning red from being mostly upside-down.

She took the sweet smelling bag of goodies and desperately needed real coffee eagerly as he handed them to her. "Now remember" he said seriously "The guards change shifts at ten. Be ready and in the back of the laundry truck by no later than...mmm"

She was able to silence him with another kiss "Thanks" she held the Danish up "and you watch too much TV."

"Oh, I was pretty sure that you knew that already" he said, distinctively proud.

-o0o-

Owing to some hitherto undiscovered law of the general perversity of the Universe tending towards maximum, Chuck was unable to have any part of his lunch hour alone in the break room of the Buy More. And thus, by extension, get down to Castle.

With Sarah in lock-down, the Orange Orange was closed "Due to a family illness." As of Wednesday, maybe three people had noticed. One of those was the postal worker, slipping the bills under the door, so he didn't really count (and as Casey said, never _ever_ tell a postal worker that).

Chuck couldn't go over and have lunch with Sarah anymore. So, for the first time in what seemed ages, he ate in the break room.

Morgan filled his Monday break with tales of Call Of Duty that Chuck had trouble relating to for some reason. Since it had been a year or more since Chuck had eaten in the break room, he also seemed to have lost the ability to ignore the sounds Jeff made as he drank his lunch. One of those health milk shakes, or so he claimed.

Tuesday lunch was ruined by Lester reheating something kosher and curry based. From the smell, the fish involved hadn't seen water for quite some time prior to either the koshering or currying process. Or both.

Wednesday, Chuck came prepared. Or rather came specifically unprepared. He made for the back dock and thence down to Castle via the rear of the Orange Orange, once he'd had to buy his lunch since he'd 'left it on the kitchen counter at home.'

Casey, on the other hand seemed to have no problem getting into Castle. People left him alone when he went for lunch. And 'by alone,' that means they fled the break room.

Chuck got down to Castle using the service hatch at the back of the yogurt shop. As he found his way to main ops, he found his greeting to Sarah's huge smile interrupted by Casey grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking him over to a monitor bank with a grumpy "Good, your here. Finally. Flash on this."

There was nothing to flash on. Casey reluctantly, it seemed to Chuck, released him. The three began working the data. When they passed files to each other, Chuck and Sarah tried to not let their fingers linger longer as they touched than was need.

Which meant they failed. Terribly.

Which meant that that was no difference from normal.

The info on Korf's associates was just enough to show that Sarah might have been targeted. But they couldn't be certain. There was a lot of supposition. That was what spies called guesswork. With ten minutes to go, they shelved the Korf files, and brought up the previous mission.

With the guided munitions, there was nothing further to work on. Some chatter, but that was all it was.

Chuck reluctantly left and returned to the Buy More.

-o0o-

The rest of the day dragged. Since Sarah had come into his life, he hadn't realised how boring the Buy More was. Or rather, he knew full well how boring it was, but since that fateful birthday, he had something better to do with his time. Without Sarah available, it was like he'd lost an arm. There was no chance of her coming past 'just to see her boyfriend' or for him to spend his lunch with her. And nights were worse. With Sarah out, any missions were deemed 'too dangerous without a replacement.'

That was a concept that scared him.

They needed to resolve this. But they couldn't do it without Sarah, and if they had Sarah, then it didn't need to be done. One of those chicken and egg things...

-o0o-

Thursday morning (warm bread rolls with melted cheese and bacon bits), Chuck and Sarah kissed good morning through the hatch.

"This is starting to get to me. When does that laundry truck get here again?" she asked.

It was mid morning when Chuck flashed.

Jeff was complaining to Lester that "My new special lady wasn't available last night. So I went next door for a Domino's pizza. And when I went back in, I was told she'd gone off shift. Bummer dude" he then tried to fist-bump Lester which confused Lester, and the others who had unwittingly, and indeed unwillingly, listened in.

Lester needed clarification "This is that the new titty bar you were talking about?"

"No, it's the brothel over on Santa Monica, between the movies and Dominos. It's under new management!" Jeff said proudly.

The flash showed the brothel, located as Jeff had said, and brought up files of people smuggling, tax evasion and files from both the Fulcrum cell as well as the German cell that Korf was a member of.

"Buddy, if the thought of Jeff... well anything. If that makes you sick, why did you have to listen? You should know better" Morgan commented having mistaken the flash for a 'I'm going to be sick' sort of expression. A perfectly natural mistake, given the circumstances.

"You're right buddy. I think I need some air" cried Chuck as he fled for the front door, Casey moved quickly for the back rooms. As soon as he was down in Castle, Chuck said to Sarah.

"I flashed! The Korf and smart bullets projects are linked!"

"Chuck! That's great. Does Casey know?"

"Know what!" demanded an angry voice "All I see is Chuck almost chuck, and then he bolts over here. Timely intel Bartowski!"

"I think we've got it. I flashed on a brothel, and both the Korf and smart bullet files popped up!"

"A brothel?" Sarah wanted to know. Also, her voice seemed to have nudged an octave or three up from normal for some reason.

"Yeah! We've got a link! If we can stop one, or even better both cells, we can get you out of here!"

"A brothel?" she emphasised, having added another octave.

"Oh No! Jeff! It was Jeff! He mentioned it. I just flashed... what?" he asked Casey.

"I said, you'll have to go in and flash again" Casey repeated himself.

"Flash again...? What do you mean... NO! No no no nononon..."

"Special happy time for mister wobbly" growled Casey, with a slightly evil smirk at the expression on the other two.

It was that look of understanding when you figure out just why the light at the end of the tunnel comes equipped with air horns.

"Nooo. There is no way I am doing this!"

-o0o-

"I can't believe I have to do this" Chuck said as he and Casey sat in the back of the van "Casey, are you sure this is the place? There's no name. It's just a door."

"A door that says they take every credit card known to man. And they're open until three in the morning. What did you expect, a neon sign that says "Get it here!"

-o0o-

Chuck sat in the room next to the spa bath. The wood panelling 'old fashioned gentleman's club' theme continued into here too. Chuck had spent an agonising ten minutes choosing his prostitute de-jour. He'd felt safer in the strong hands of Mr Colt, forty feet over the pavement than he had since he'd been pushed in here by Casey.

He'd flashed on, and then as tasked in the mission outline, chosen the (in this case, North Korean) agent posing in this house of ill-repute. All of the girls had been Asian with easy to remember Western names.

Lucy was the agent. The only problem, well not the only but from Chuck's thought process it was certainly the biggest, was that she wasn't leaving. Chuck was supposed to take a shower. Foolishly, he'd assumed this would be like he was used to. In a separate bathroom, or at least an en-suite. A bedroom had a bed. Not many in his experience also had showers stuck in the corner. This place had showers in each bedroom he'd been led by the hand past.

Great. A North Korean assassin had led him by the hand into a small bedroom. Chuck never thought he was claustrophobic, until now. While she was taking his shoes off, Chuck hit the red button on his watch. Twice.

On and off. He hoped.

The plan had been that he would advise when he was in the room. Everyone assumed that the girl would leave while Chuck showered. And here he was without an earwig. He could transmit, but not receive. Except with her here, he couldn't even transmit.

Somehow, while she removed Chuck's shoes, 'Lucy' had also removed her (frankly, not very flattering) bikini top. She began to work on Chuck's shirt, and when she pulled his undershirt off, Chuck found a pair of firm breasts pushed into his face.

When she started on his belt, he began "Uh... uh, I can..." he stood, and took his own pants off with as much dignity as he could muster. Lucy held his hand and led him to the shower stall.

Chuck fiddled with the taps to get the temperature right, and forced himself to relax. Just when he did, and had his face under the spray, he felt a pair of breasts press into his back, along with some spiky groin-al stubble scratch his bottom.

"Yerg! And there goes the soap... I'll get... OK, probably safer if you pick that up, I guess. Thanks. Crowded in here with ... just us two-ooOoo..."

She was diligently scrubbing somewhere that frankly Chuck felt he'd been qualified to wash unsupervised for quite some time now.

"Uhhh... Oh... um...that's very ..."

Her hands circled around and began cleaning more territory that Chuck felt another woman had a more legitimate claim to cleansing rights of. "Uhh..."

Chuck turned around. A dangerous prospect in a running shower, when being pressed up against by a wet and very naked North Korean assassin. "Hi...um... oh..."

One of her hands stayed wrapped around him, still cleaning his bottom. The other hand was working diligently at Chuck's crotch.

Eventually Chuck's ordeal in the shower was over. She led him by the hand out of the shower, and began to towel him off. Before Chuck felt completely dry, she then invaded his personal bubble by tracing her lips softly from his ear to his shoulder, and then down his chest...

To Chuck's huge relief, he heard the distinctive sounds of breaking glass and concussion grenades in the distance. Only so did the woman with her lips pressed to his nipple. She must have felt him relax at the sound, rather than the normal reaction. He found himself pushed back onto the bed, and when he was able to stop flailing, he saw she now stood with a small pistol, that she had recovered from under the mattress, pointed at him.

"Um hey, what's... is that a gun?" he said as he tried to get up. This turned out to be the best thing to say, since it rather confused the glistening wet, naked woman aiming a pistol at him.

There were confused female voices in a smatter of Asian languages coming from the corridor. Then the door splintered open, and a figure that looked like a bulky Chewbacca wearing black riot gear followed the door fragments into the room, a second figure in tactical gear followed. 'Lucy' swivelled at the intruders and back to Chuck. Deciding the large storm trooper-y character was slightly more dangerous, since he had a machine gun that Chuck recognised as the sort they used on Star Gate.

A year and a bit of Sarah screaming at him 'duck and roll' had its results. Chuck made his move, and ducked and rolled.

As he was rolling out, his legs tangled with the back of Lucy's knees. It was just like back in high school, she collapsed onto him. OK, the wet and naked part wasn't a regular part of the high school prank. Not the school that Chuck went to anyway.

As Lucy went down, her shots went wide, but the larger figure had reacted, throwing himself onto the threat. Chuck now found himself in a further high school prank. He was at the bottom of the pile.

"Oof!"

There was also some cursing in what was probably Korean.

And a grunt.

Since Chuck was on the bottom of a small pile of thrashing agents, he missed the second figure in tactical throw Casey to one side, but he felt the weight ease off.

The two black geared figures then grabbed the struggling and screaming North Korean assassin off Chuck, and dragged her out of the room still screaming. After a few slappy sounds and the sound of an air pistol, the screaming and cursing eased off.

Chuck was alone. Pants, he needed pants. He was tackled to the floor (again) as he was hopping with one leg in, and one partway. For the second time today, he was pressed into the faux marble with a fire arm near to his person.

"I feel like I've been arrested by a Sith version of the black Stig" Chuck muttered aloud. "And I'm gonna need about fifty showers before I can go home... oof" he concluded as the knee pressed harder into his back before Chuck was lifted to his feet.

He turned to face the mirrored helmet "Sarah, nothing happened, you know that. And you know I didn't want to do..."

The visor was thrown open "Chuck! How did you know?" she demanded.

He smiled, a little infuriatingly Sarah though.

"Because I love you, and everything about you. Even your grapefruit scented shampoo..."

"Hmmph"

As he finished pulling his pants up, she stepped in closer "Are... are you alright?"

He looked into her face expressing fear and worry and smiled a little, saying "I am now."

-o0o-


	7. Chapter 7

-o0o-

I don't own Chuck et al.

.

Although, in 1986, I did own a 1986 XF Falcon. The S-pack option, I forgot to tick the 'missile launchers' option (and that's probably a good thing, but there _were_ days...)

-o0o-

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

Chuck was having a bad day at the Buy More. He was honest enough to admit to himself it was just him, _he_ was having a dad day. He just had a bad attitude, and everything was niggling at him. The customers were as wonderfully intelligent as normal, but today they just ... he hadn't bitten anyone... yet.

There was nothing specific, and honestly, his day was no different from normal. And he knew he was being short with everyone. Not just customers, he'd snapped at Skip over what was frankly nothing.

It was like he'd had some sort of _Distilled Essence Of Casey_ slipped into his Froot Loops this morning.

And there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. He was thinking the best thing he could do to ease his mood was to get down into Castle, borrow some sort of machine gun, and let fly on the range. One of the few times he'd heard a happy Casey was during what Sarah had described as 'post ammo letdown' when Casey had told him "Happiness is a belt fed weapon."

A lot of noise, a lot of destruction. That was what he needed. The fly in that particular ointment was he would need to get into Castle for that.

Which was where Sarah was currently holed-up. She wasn't mad at him. But she sure as shit wasn't 'fly into his arms' happy to see him either.

The logical part of Chuck knew that she knew he _had_ to go into the brothel for tactical reasons. And thanks to her sneaking onto the tactical team, she knew nothing happened. He knew she knew that he didn't want anything to happen. Desperately didn't want anything to happen.

But she was... well she wasn't pissed off at him, she wasn't annoyed with him. She wasn't speaking to him, well she was _speaking_, but it wasn't normal. Not Sarah.

Well, not _his Sarah_. The old Sarah, the super secret spy Sarah. The handler of dorky nerds Sarah. That one. The girlfriend Sarah was ... MIA for want of a better word.

It was now Saturday. Casey had passed on that the North Korean, Lucy, was assisting the NSA with their enquires. But she still hadn't talked. And since the smart bullets hadn't been recovered, or Korf's cell captured, they were pretty much in the same place as they'd been before.

Except that 'before,' Sarah hadn't seen him naked with another woman...

_Hang –on. Sarah saw me... I'm not slow, I'm just 'special.'_ Chuck thought to himself. Two days. Two days it took for this to sink in...

"Casey! Hi, um, can I have a word?" Chuck called out as he bolted from the herd desk, skidding to a stop in appliances.

"What?" came the gracious reply from a man in a green polo moving a huge fridge.

Chuck got closer so he could speak without the rest of the store overhearing "Um, Thursday night, when ... we met Lucy?"

"Christopher Columbus... _now_ what?" Casey asked exasperatedly easing the two door fridge onto all four feet.

"How did... isn't Sarah supposed to be in lock down?" Chuck asked in a quiet voice.

The grunt was a happy one, which surprised Chuck. Those didn't happen very often.

"You honestly think Walker's gonna let you get all nakedy with some brunette, and not invite herself to the ass kicking party?"

"You let her out?"

Casey rubbed his jaw with a small grin "Don't knows I'd use that word 'let.' Powerful persuasive, when she gets a _mood_."

-o0o-

Sarah rang him as soon as he got home. Since Ellie and Devon weren't home yet, he could speak plainly.

She was watching him over the feed "Chuck? You didn't come by Castle..."

"Um, hi Sarah... Nah, I've sort of had a bad day. I just wanted to get home, that's all. Get some chainsaw therapy on Doom, or something. Sorry. I just wouldn't have been much ... use."

"Pity, you missed something. Lucy talked."

"Really?"

"Not all, but some. It looks like Korf was just a minor part of the cell. They weren't looking for me."

"That's great! So you're free?" suddenly Chuck's bad mood lifted. The tightness in his chest that he didn't know was there suddenly disappeared.

"Not completely. Korf is a minor part of her cell. So we need to confirm, but I have limited release from lock down."

"... OK, limited?" she grinned at his puzzled expression. He was going to love what happened next.

"Um... I have the same restrictions you do, Chuck..."

"...OK..."

"I can join you guys on missions again, since I haven't been able to after being in lock down..." Chuck picked up her emphasis that she definitely did _not_ join the tactical team, and had been in Castle the whole time.

"That's great. We can go on missions again. Great"

"Uh, Chuck? Same restrictions as you, OK? I have to be under surveillance the whole time."

"They're putting cameras in your hotel room?" the thought horrified him.

"No, thank God. There already exists a place under our jurisdiction that already has more than enough cameras..."

Chuck was puzzled, and she could see that over the feed into Castle

"Your place, Chuck. Your place. I've been ordered to move in with you for the time being" she desperately tried not to grin.

Chuck's was silent again, for a different reason this time. The back of his knees ran cold. Actually the whole area between toes and kidneys.

"Chuck?"

Eventually he felt his voice would sound normal on the recording "Sarah, you're OK abut that? I'm sorry that you're inconvenienced like this" that was for the official recordings "Mind you, Ellie's gonna love it" was a more honest statement aimed at Sarah.

"Well, it's only until we can resolve the Korf situation, or we get more information out of that skank that the NSA are interrogating. Chuck, I'm sorry about the invasion on _your_ privacy. I couldn't believe it when Casey suggested your place for me to move into. The general agreed."

Before allowing his eyebrows to return to their natural position Chuck squeaked "Casey?"

"Yeah, he said he didn't want to waste taxpayers dollars in doubling up the number of cameras."

Sweating, just a little, Chuck managed "Well, pretty sure there are more cameras in here than can fit in your hotel room. Unless he wanted to experiment with three dee or something..."

"Chuck? Pick me up tomorrow. We can talk then, OK? When Ellie and Devon get home, tell them you'll pick me up at the airport, we need to get some luggage from my hotel, and I can drive us back home, OK?"

-o0o-

Casey noted in the logs that the reason it took Bartowski and Walker well over two hours to travel from Castle to Echo Park, via Walker's hotel, was that she needed to a) pack, since she'd been sent into lockdown without that opportunity, and to b) advise Bartowski of the 'rules of engagement' while she was living with him.

A sort of 'dos and don'ts' list. Casey strongly suspected that there may have even been a practical demonstration of some sort regarding the 'don'ts' section.

Chuck had left home around eleven, and drove to the Buy More, parking the Nerd Herder, but kept the keys.

He then snuck over to the rear of the Orange Orange to access the other Castle entrance. Chuck snuck so successfully that only Jeff and Lester... (Oh, alright. Lester saw him, and then told Jeff)... saw him scurry from bush to bush in the lot, towards the Fro Yo shop.

"It's sad, really. I wonder what he's doing in the empty shop while she's not there?"

"I know what _I'd_ do..." said Jeff, adding one of his trademark 'slo mo' winks.

"...Not everyone thinks like you do, my large and... _deeply_ troubled friend" said Lester after a moments pause, not adding a 'Thankfully.'

Lester spent the next ten minutes unsuccessfully trying to not think of Jeff swimming naked in a vat of flavoured yogurt. It was the thought of the tumble turn that made him shudder. No matter that Lester hadn't been over there since the Wienerlicious days, he could never go in there now. Ever.

What Chuck _was_ doing over there was not anything like the pair watching him imagined. To start with, everyone involved was fully clothed. Not a drop of yogurt was involved.

He was meeting Sarah. The girlfriend he wasn't supposed to have.

"Good morning. Ready to go?" he asked once he found Sarah in main ops.

"Yeah, get me out of here"

Back outside, she let him into her Porsche, and drove him back to her hotel.

-o0o-

Once in her room, she gave him a quick kiss, and said with eyelids batting "I need a real shower, stay with me?"

"Duh!"

"_No_, just me" she grinned "I just need a real shower. OK?"

After watching her parade around the room in some _seriously_ sexy lingerie for five minutes, fussing over her shower needs, and luggage and feeding Sharkie, Chuck finally cracked. She grinned to herself, he'd lasted longer than she thought he would.

"Is this revenge for being sent in, undercover I might add, to flash in a brothel?"

She showed him the grin "No. Well, maybe a little bit. But don't you see? This is how it works..."

"How what works?"

"You love me, right?"

*snort*

"I'll take that as a maybe. Well, that means I'm always right" she declared with irrefutable logic.

"You sure, that seems to feel awfully onesided... eeeep!"

"I'm sorry Chuck, what was that?"

"I love you. And all that that implies" he said, looking at the pencil still going 'jong' after it had impaled into the wall, having flown past him at waist height, with a tolerance measured in millimetres.

"Good boy."

"Woof!"

"OK, we need to work on that sarcastic streak of yours."

"Me? Sarcastic? Me? Yeargh!" this pencil had been aimed lower.

She led him into the bathroom for her shower. It turned out Chuck needed to take all his clothes off too. Just in case they got wet. Which they would have, after she dragged him into the stall with her.

-o0o-

"Alright, ladies choice for tonight's movie" offered Chuck.

The idiot.

Sarah hunted though the collection "This one" she said brightly once she found her movie.

"Bridget Jones' Diary, really?"

Her eyes sparkled. A little dangerously, thought Chuck to himself. She smiled and said "Don't you love me? Just the way I am? I may be a" she mouthed the word _spy_ "but I'm also a girl, standing in front of a boy..."

Chuck struggled, before he eventually laughed "OK, if I call you out on that, I'm outing myself as having seen both films, but in my defence, Devon was with me the whole time when Ellie made us watch them."

"Made you?"

"Oh made me, definitely. You've met my sister, Ellie right?" Chuck paused to gesture to his sister who was beaming at the pair of them, giving Sarah a thumbs up at the movie selection "Force of nature... _she_ who must be _obeyed_..." he intoned in a deeper than normal voice.

"I thought that was me. In fact, I'm pretty sure I have written orders regarding that."

"Well, _now_... but earlier..."

"Come the flock on, Sarah" came Ellie's voice from the couch.

During the movie, Chuck took the opportunity to mark his territory. Sarah had snuggled up beside him, using his chest as a pillow.

That left her golden tresses dangerously close to his five o'clock shadow. Chuck touched his chin lightly on the top of her head.

He was very careful to not move once he'd done so. The trick was to let Sarah do all the work.

His bristles caught in her hair, and acted like a comb, wielded by a mad man every time she moved. He smiled a little to himself. He was going to cop it later...

Sarah, didn't realise for a full five minutes what he'd done, until a stray strand drifted in front of her eyes.

"Chuu-uuuuck..." she warned and complained at the same time.

"Mmm-m?" he asked, all innocent like.

She retracted her head to look up at him. This managed to move a fair chunk of hair, some of it still caught on his chin "We've talked about this..."

He grinned hugely "Whaa-aat? You did all the work. I didn't move... eeep!" he reacted to her tickle attack.

She kept the 'hard done by sheep dog' look for a moment, before sweeping her hair back, and added a "foooof" to blow the last strands away. Her expression led him believe that this conversation wasn't over.

The cameras in his bedroom prevented any sort of revenge. She'd think of something...

-o0o-

**AN II.** Just letting you guys know I'll be on leave next week, so a bit of a delay. My mother turns ninety on the 23rd. And she's in better form than I am...

The last time I went to the farm and romped with kangaroos, I developed a summer cold... no promises...


	8. Chapter 8

-o0o-

I don't own Chuck et al. And lately, I can't even find my copy of "The Deeper Meaning Of Liff." Bummer.

-o0o-

**OSHKOSH (n., Vb.) – **The noise made by someone who has just been grossly flattered and is trying to make light of it.

Douglas Adams: "The Meaning Of Liff."

* * *

><p>-o0o-<p>

Chuck opened his eyes. He smiled at the sight of the woman who loved him, sleeping beside him, her hair haloed by the morning light, her face a picture of innocence and beauty. Her lips parted slightly in a smile. It was very likely the most glorious thing in the world to wake up to.

She must have sensed he was awake from the change in his breathing. She opened her eyes to face his smile, and returned it in an adorably sleepy manner. As she stretched sinuously, and in what was frankly still a movement that was an eye popping and dangerous distraction to males if they were operating heavy, or indeed any, machinery (or, to be honest, just attempting to remain vertical while converting oxygen into carbon dioxide) despite that fact that Chuck was intimately familiar with the contents of the skin tight tank top. She allowed her left hand to travel down his torso, coming to a stop at his boxers.

"Hi" he breathed. She smiled again, and mouthed 'hi' back at him.

"Happy to be back in the world?" he asked.

She nodded. And then with what Chuck could only describe as a cheeky smile said "Oh, but it was a lonely life down in Castle. Bathing." Her hand moved...

"Dressing" her hand found something to hang onto...

"Undressing" her hand seemed to have found a rhythm now...

"Making exciting underwear" she added what could only be described as 'smoulder' to her expression while she emphasised with a tightening of her grip.

"O...O...Kaaay" he stammered, struggling to concentrate "t...two minor p...points. While the CIA has u...un...douBtedly taught you m...many s...s...skills, I didn't know sewing was one of them..."

"Chuck, there are many, many things about me..." the 'smoulder' had, if possible, increased. Chuck wasn't prepared.

"Mystery, thy name is Sarah. The other point is, when did you watch that film? Because since you've been in my life, I haven... "

*light bulb*

"...You watched it down in Castle, didn't you?" he continued.

She was able to project an air of angelic innocence "What film?"

"You're a loony."

Angelic innocence now seemed to include a smattering of evil, somehow. Bad, bad wicked Sarah.

Chuck didn't glance down at the covers, under which her hand still held on. The twinkle in her eye made the situation go 'click.'

"This is because of the chin grooming thing last night. Isn't it?" he wanted to know.

Her evil grin grew impish.

He leaned in to whisper "Fine, but just remember, we're still on camera. You can't get any while your here either."

"Any what?" she asked, still angelic, while her hand was definitely not. She let go with a little squeeze before things became desperate.

Sarah skipped to the bathroom for her morning shower. Chuck stayed in bed for an extra few minutes, hoping nothing would stand out on the video recording.

-o0o-

After three weeks, the Orange Orange reopened to the public without fanfare. It was eleven thirty before the public noticed. Sarah spent that time dusting, replacing the contents of, and field stripping the yogurt machinery until her first, of five customers for the day (Chuck's coming over for lunch didn't count).

"Morning Charles" Lester said, in a manner that left one desperately feeling the need of a shower, "how gracious of you to grant us the boon of your presence. I would have thought, what with your lady friend being back and all, you might have taken this as the time to..."

"Tap that" supplied Jeff.

"One day gentlemen, you will wonder why you lived your whole lives alone" Chuck addressed the Buy More odd couple "Remember this moment. You will find a hint, a suggestion as to why you will die lonely. Let me give it to you now. _You_ are not..."

"Bartowski!" echoed Big Mike's dulcet tones from his office doorframe – as close as Big Mike allowed himself onto the sales floor once customers (or staff) were allowed in the store. Chuck smiled at the pair. His point now made.

"Morning Big M..." Chuck began.

"Service order" barked Big Mike, thrusting the paperwork into Chuck's chest before allowing the office door to slam shut in Chuck's face.

"...ike. Let me get right on to that for you." Chuck found himself addressing the door, and carried on anyway out of a sense of perverse bloody mindedness.

He looked at the paperwork. Set up a network for some residential address. No biggie. He gathered his kit, and headed for the nerd herder out front.

Before setting off, he sent Casey – who was yet to start work, the new roster had kicked in - a text letting him know what was going on, since the last time he'd gone on a service call solo, he ended up suspended over the edge of a building. Upside down as it happened. Sarah he called up. They talked until he got there.

Some of their discussion drifted into other, sultrier topics. It was a wonder he hadn't crashed into a preschool, or a busload of nuns yet. Part of him hoped she had a vivid imagination. Another part hoped it wasn't... Can you actually do that with an ice-cube? And wouldn't the tea melt it?

-o0o-

While it wasn't a rough neighbourhood, if there was a house in the street that would let you find a car, or at least a shopping trolley, by mowing the front lawn, this was the house that was the best candidate.

Chuck squared his shoulders and knocked at the door "Nerd herd. Somebody called about a computer emergency?" he called out.

A guy came, and let him in. Once he was inside, it would also appear to have also been the maid's month off. The kitchen bench was covered in take out containers and pizza boxes. A soccer match played silently on the TV, once another man muted it when Chuck came in.

It all reminded Chuck of those scenes on TV where the mafia witness in protection was about to be whacked while the feds got bored. Only these two didn't look like feds.

But they _were _armed. Chuck had gotten used to spotting a shoulder holster by this time. Uh-oh. The flash hit him, but no one noticed.

At least there wasn't a forty foot drop conveniently near by to dangle a hostage named Chuck off. Not that Chuck could see.

Had this sort of thing always gone on, in the past, and Chuck had never noticed? Or were bad guys drawn to LA like moths to a flame now-a-days? It was like before Sarah, Chuck's little corner of LA was pretty average. Now, somehow, there were pretty girls everywhere. Not, of course, that Chuck ever noticed. The guys at the Buy More were however helpful enough to point this disparity to the law of averages. In fact, it was a major point of conversation.

The first guy didn't notice Chuck's small hesitation and led him to the two lap tops on the kitchen table "We just don't seem to be able to get them to talk to each other."

Chuck had flashed at the sound of the first guy's voice. He was in the safe house of Korf's cell.

Naturally.

"Shouldn't be a problem, anything else? Hook your phones up to them too?" Chuck offered. He prided himself on customer service. Lately, he'd managed to add keeping his voice from quivering too.

He set himself up at the laptops, and they left him alone. He called Sarah.

"Big Mike, I'm on site now"

'_Chuck! What's wrong? Are you... say 'yes' if you are in danger'_

"Yep, on site. Looks pretty standard." Chuck resisted the urge to wipe his brow.

'_OK. We're on our way. Do you need extraction? Yes or no'_

"Nah, I can set this up fine."

'_OK, we're on our way. Hit the panic button if you need too.'_

"That's why I called. See you when I'm done." Chuck hung up. He'd had an idea. What was the point of being a computer nerd if you couldn't use it once in a while?

It took him fifteen minutes to set up the network the way they wanted. Another three minutes to set it up the way _he_ wanted. He'd added their phones into the loop. And a hideously subtle backdoor into the system.

God, he could get arrested for this sort of thing. If he didn't already work for the government. Sort of.

The guys even offered him a coffee while he worked. Chuck made a judgement call based on the condition of the kitchen. "No thanks. I had one when I got to work this morning."

He spent another ten minutes ensuring his patches worked, and got a 'ping' back from Castle's mainframe.

After getting a signature for his work, Chuck left. When he got into his nerd herder, and drove around the corner, there was a black Ford van parked on the side of the road. It flashed its headlights.

Casey and Sarah were waiting inside for him.

"I swear, Bartowski. You're like the poster child for trouble. It's magnetic"

"Chuck! Are you alright?"

"Hey guys. Guess what? I found the cell. Yeah, I found it, I found it...ow"

"Casey, don't hit him like that. Chuck..."

"Just an attitude adjustment... magnet" Casey muttered. She always took the moron's side... it wasn't fair...

"Guys, I found the cell. The buyers for the smart bullets." Chuck reminded them.

"Let's get them" was punctuated by the sound of a pistol slide cocking.

"Wait! Slow down there Hoss. We've got them"

"What do you mean, moron?"

Chuck gave up on Casey, and turned to face Sarah, who he'd rather face anyway. "I was sent out to do a service call. I serviced their computer. Serviced the smeg out of it..."

He could see Sarah understood, but Casey still had the 'I want to hit something/one' expression.

"I installed some software of questionable legality, and might I add superbly elegant subtlety. We now own their system, phones, and have open camera and mikes in their safe house. And _if_ they ever use a thumb drive, any computer that _that_ thumb drive is installed into..."

Sarah's huge smile made Chuck's smugness feel vindicated.

Casey still looked like he wanted to hit something. Or one.

"Chuck, you're a genius!"

"Yeah, well..." Chuck went all faux modest. Badly. His huge grin at Sarah was the give-away.

*grunt*

-o0o-

"Excellent work team"

Strong praise from the general. Chuck felt a little disappointed that his work had been included as a team effort. Sarah's gentle pressure onto the top of his Converse covered foot turned Chuck's attempt to correct the general drift off into the upper registers. His look at her, with one eye twitching and watering as he turned slightly green, had no visible reaction from her. Maybe he should consider steel caped boots and wondered idly if Converse made any. And when did she put the stilettos on?

"Thank you, general" said Sarah, taking pity on her Chuck, and releasing his foot, timed to coincide with the general's courteous sign off. He didn't collapse, writhing on the floor. Nor did he hop around like a crazed one legged hoppy thing. But he did limp manfully. Over the next few days actually, when he remembered to.

Anyway, she made it up to him fifteen minutes later, after Casey went back to the Buy More to resume his shift. They didn't have time for more than a kiss, but as apologies go, the kiss was a doozy.

Enough so that Chuck forgot to limp for some time.

-o0o-


	9. Chapter 9

-o0o-

As of 30.08.11, I don't own Chuck et al.

-o0o-

**CLACKAVOID (n.)** – Technical BBC term for a page of dialogue from Blake's Seven.

Douglas Adams: "The Meaning Of Liff."

…

(Later versions of 'Liff' changed this to "Australian soap operas," since I'm pretty sure no-one else will remember Blake's Seven (JustChuck, you are excused). I was watching an old SF series the other day – see if you can spot the reference – when I was reminded of this definition. And no, I've never watched 'Neighbours' or 'Home and Away.' Blake's Seven, on the other hand...)

* * *

><p>Chuck had pulled a Sunday shift. Being still in semi lock-down – ie. Sharing a room with Chuck so she would be under surveillance (for her own protection, naturally) – Sarah had stayed home.<p>

Home. She smiled a little to herself at that thought. Actually, she smiled a lot at that thought. She actually had a home. And it wasn't necessarily this physical building. Anywhere that was Chuck, that was home...

The point was, that Sarah was in Casa Bartowski, while Chuck and Casey were at their day jobs. It was after eight in the evening when the pair trudged (OK, Chuck trudged, Casey marched) into the courtyard.

There was the telltale flickering blue light coming through the window. And women were laughing with all the wisdom that comes from that _third_ glass of wine.

Chuck stopped in his tracks at the sound of the giggling.

The TV was on, and the two women in his life were together, watching said TV. And giggling.

Oh, this couldn't be good.

_Please not the light sabre home video. Please not that..._

Casey noticed that the geek was now ten feet behind him. He looked at Chuck, and then at the blue flickering window.

"Heh!" came the sound of a man who'd just decided to have a good scotch and a good cigar as soon as he got inside. It looked like there might be something interesting on the box tonight...

Chuck looked around the now empty courtyard. He sighed, and then squared his shoulders. It wasn't like Casey would let him sleep over in his place anyway...

He may as well go home, home was where they _had_ to take you in. His hand only slipped twice on the door knob.

Sarah and Ellie where giggling again, when Chuck came in. Both called his name with slightly guilty expressions.

He came around the back of the couch to kiss Sarah, Spiderman style. He could smell the wine on her breath, but the glee in her eyes told him she was lucid.

"Hi" he whispered to her.

"Hi" she grinned back. Bracing himself with a quick glance down her top, he looked at the TV for the first time. She grinned at him, having naturally caught the little glance, and then at his expression of horror.

"Oh. Dear. God." Chuck uttered, stricken.

It was worse than he'd feared. But it did explain the giggling.

They'd found his collection. His stash. And ...

And they'd been watching it... his sister and his secret girlfriend had been watching...

Commander Riker was frozen on the paused screen, with a little Jean-Luc Picard doll tucked in the crook of his elbow.

"Wha... wahtcha doing?" he asked warily. This wasn't what he'd expected. Ever.

Sarah tried to explain. "It's my fault, really... I, um... I got bored and... well Ellie showed me all the best bits... do Worf and Deanna ever get together for real?"

"Um... I don't know, I never got into DS nn... nevermind. Worf... what was the giggling I heard?"

Sarah watched him drop his 'Bladerunner' bag and sit beside her on the couch "Well, um, I got bored... we were watching the episode where they all sing happy birthday to Worf. In Klingon. It was the look on his face... it was very funny..." she finished shyly.

"Sooo... you've been having fun"

"I haven't seen these since I was a kid" she nodded.

"You've seen these?" asked he with raised eyebrows.

"We had TV" she paused and added, what is generally acknowledged to be the best science fiction movie line _ever_, in a little voice as she tilted her head forward, and looking up into his eyes "..mostly..."

Chuck was able to keep a straight face for all of three seconds before her faux sad expression cracked him up. That 'mostly' got him every time.

Ellie sent him off to get changed while she heated up his dinner. He joined the girls watching the recovery of the Pegasus while he ate dinner off his lap, sharing Sarah's wine.

After the disc ended, rather than start the next one, Sarah fetched her favourite of Chuck's laptops, and brought up the transcripts from the safe house that the analysts had prepared. She'd personalised the laptop with little pink 'My Magic Pony' stickers that had been left in the Orange Orange some weeks back. Possibly to that parents relief.

The look of abject horror on Chuck's face was priceless. She didn't know if it was the fact that a perfectly good computer had been desecrated with these little plastic abominations or the thought that Sarah Walker was the source of said desecration was the worse transgression. The end result was he just shuddered, and hardly ever touched that computer again. And once the clamshell was up, she couldn't see the little pink horrors anymore.

She was also fully aware that Chuck had already photo-shopped a chainsaw and a hocky mask onto a sticker. He was waiting for the opportunity to be alone with the little pink herd of stick-on ponies so he could turn one into Jason (or Damian, Chuck wasn't sure. Not really his oeuvre), and chop a couple of the ponies in half... not all of them, just some of them...

"Is that more fan fiction?" Ellie wanted to know. She couldn't _get_ fan fiction. If it wasn't in the show, then it wasn't real. But her brother and Sarah seemed to like it, so...

Sarah nodded, and shared the screen with Chuck. If Ellie had looked, the transcripts did look like fanfiction. Sort of. A badly written one, but the dialogue was very accurate. Ellie watched the news, and as she had an early start, went to bed.

After Ellie left them, they needed to separate a bit. They still needed to share the screen for them both to review, but without Ellie being present, if they kept playing little finger games like that, well... questions would be asked.

They both kept neutral expressions. After about an hour of transcripts, Chuck yawned for the third time in five minutes. Sarah took pity on him, and they went to bed.

Chuck was already under the sheet, too hot for anything else lately, Sarah came from getting changed in the bathroom.

She settled under the sheet, not to close, since he was like a radiator in summer. Sarah liked winter, when she could snuggle. "Um, Chuck?" she asked.

"Mmm?"

"When you came in tonight, you looked worried. What was wrong?"

"Oh, noth..."

"Chu-uuu-uck..."

"...um...well, I was ... I was worried Ellie had shown you the... some home movies. You know, baby in the bath sort of thing."

She waited until he stopped fidgeting, and looked at her. Her clear blue eyes and simple smile calmed him.

Until she said "Or that light sabre video. Seriously, what were you thinking? If that was real, then we could have never... you know... met."

"Yeah. I'd be dead, cause I'd split myself in twain."

She snorted, ladylike though. "Did it hurt?"

"What, almost cutting myself in half with a broom handle? Well, it kind of took my mind off sex for about fifteen minutes."

"Well, then. Good training for being the only human intersect."

"Oh, har har. And how did you see that video?"

"Ellie showed it to me last year... along with the naked baby bath ones... you were cute."

Chuck rolled onto his back. "I love my sister" were the words groaned to the ceiling.

-o0o-

The agency analysts monitored the feed from the safe house. On the previous Tuesday, a request had come through from the boys in the back room for any available version of the 'Carmichael Special.'

It seems they liked it, and thought it had use in the field. General Beckman ordered Chuck to send them a copy.

Chuck was very pleased. Something he'd done, something he'd _made_ had been appreciated. Almost half joking, he asked where he should send the invoice to.

The general's expression changed to stone in between heart beats, assuming that she had a heart.

Chuck wouldn't see any royalties. The general quibbled about intellectual property developed on Agency time, belonged to the Agency.

"Perhaps, mister Bartowski, you should have read your contract a little more carefully."

"What contract? And most of it was done for the Buy More, and before that the ground work was done while I was in Stanford!"

"Well then, the Buy More Corporation Ltd owns a share, being done on _their_ time. And owing to the _nature_ of the program, jail time is a far more likely outcome from the Stanford portion."

"Chuck, it's OK. We appreciate it, don't we, Casey?" Sarah desperately wanted to place a hand on his arm, to calm him. Chuck, not Casey.

Casey rolled his eyes without even bothering to grunt. He wanted to drift over to the weapons rack, where Matilda was calling to him. She needed to be fired at something squishy and then cleaned. He still had some of that Minke whale oil left. Not Greenpeace friendly, but it did clean his special M60 like nothing else could.

"Now, to continue" continued the general "it is apparent that agent Walker is not the target of the cell currently under observation. Sarah, you are released from observation and are free to return to your own place."

"Um.."

"General..."

"General, agent Walker's cover is in place until the end of this week. Her returning to her hotel at this time will raise questions with the asset's sister."

Chuck and Sarah stared at Casey in astonishment.

"Very well, agent Walker? At your convenience then" said the general as she pressed the cut-off button.

Sarah desperately wanted to speak to Casey right about now, but though this should wait until they were off camera. In the mean time "Chuck, look we'll work on placing a work order for you about the special, OK? Um, John? Can I have a word upstairs?" she said as she followed the large green shirt up to the yogurt shop.

Casey just kept going, showing no sign of having heard her, until he was halfway across the parking lot, and stopped with an evil grin, the only kind he knew how to make to be honest, out of shot of any cameras.

Sarah caught up to him, his grin putting her off for a moment "John? What's... why did you suggest to the general..."

"Not that I don't appreciate the time off when you and the moron spend just about every second week end at your hotel. _For the cover, _naturally. As I said, Ellie's expecting you for at least the rest of this week" he said, before continuing on to the Buy More.

Sarah stood still for a few moments, before returning to the fro-yo shop.

-o0o-

After work, Sarah picked Chuck up, and they went grocery shopping. Astoundingly, no-one shot at them, tried to kidnap either one of them or cause Chuck to flash. Chuck felt this was some sort of record. But not enough of a one to tempt fate, and risk a date with Sarah Walker.

"So, you're saying I'm not worth the risk?" she teased him. The look of horror she received was worth it.

"No! Nononononono! I mean..."

She encroached into his personal bubble, not that he objected "Sshhh... At least we know what to do when we need to capture some bad guys, right?"

He nodded, dumbly. She gave him a quick peck on the lips "Good. Come on, let's get a snack before we go home."

While Sarah got the sushi, Chuck found a table slightly isolated from the rest. A little table for two, one foot away from the other six similar tables placed an inch apart. Sarah sat and shared the plastic container with him. As she was opening the little fish shaped bottle of soy, her elbow was bumped by a large woman and her small brood (small being the quantity of the brood, as opposed to their collective weight) settle onto the tables beside them. There was a muttered "Sorry" from the woman, who was more concerned over the stability of her tray of Americas Mcfavourite meat flavoured sandwiches, to paraphrase Crusty the clown.

Sarah tilted her head and stared at Chuck. Chuck waited until he felt safe for all concerned before handing over the chopsticks. Afterwards, on their way back to the car, she said "See? I can be calm."

Chuck snorted a little "Sarah, the guys using the Cassini telescope saw you were calm. And it's pointing at a different heavenly body."

She timed her shove so he would _almost_ miss the automatic doors.

The Porsche wasn't designed for grocery shopping. Sarah had parked some distance from the shop entrance, wanting to keep 'her baby' away from errant shopping trolleys and careless family truckster doors. Chuck struggled manfully with the bags, feeling the plastic handles lengthen as they crossed the underground garage. Once in the car, Chuck had to carry one of the bags in his lap. He spent the trip with his nose being tickled by the celery.

Devon came home just as Chuck and Sarah were preparing for bed. Chuck warmed Devon's portion of dinner up for him as the tired doctor mellowed on the couch. Poor Ellie wouldn't be home until after midnight. Devon was determined to wait up for her, and sent to pair to bed.

As Chuck headed for their room (that was a nice thought. _Their_ room...) he automatically patted his pockets looking for his keys. Nope, he checked the bowl. Not there either.

"Um, Sarah? Where are my keys?"

"Where you left them" came her voice from behind the bathroom door and around a mouthful of toothpaste. She opened the door as she finished brushing.

"I gave them to you, remember? My arms were full when we came home"

"I can't help it if you can't remember where I left them, that's your poor memory."

Chuck rather felt that the little smirk she gave him wasn't totally necessary after she strode past him, and picked them up off the table from under a pile of napkins she'd left there for just such a purpose.

-o0o-

Another hot night.

She pushed him away from her with a mumbled "Too hot" as she 'starfished' in the middle of the bed (when Devon did it, Ellie called it his Venice Beach Pose). Chuck balanced grimly on the edge of the mattress under the sheet he needed while she lay sans covers wearing just bra and panties. She was seriously contemplating loosing those, but the cameras...

Her phone rang at 0208. It was Casey.

"Walker."

'_Wake the moron up. We've got movement_.'

"Casey? What's happening?"

'_The cell is making its move. The deal for the smart bullets looks like its going down tonight.'_

* * *

><p>(Also a bonus definition)<p>

**DUNGENESS (n.) – **The uneasy feeling that the plastic handles of the overloaded supermarket carrier bag you are carrying are getting steadily longer.


	10. Chapter 10

-o0o-

As of 30 Jan 12, I don't own Chuck et al. Even though the show has finished, and Schwedak don't need them anymore...

**The last time I updated** this, it was late summer in the northern hemisphere, so I've kept the 'hot nights' theme going, despite the fact there is now something called 'snow' scattered across chunks of the continental US.

What is 'snow?' and how do you use it?

-o0o-

**GOOLE (n.)** – The puddle on the bar into which the barman puts your change.

Douglas Adams: "The Meaning Of Liff."

Music referred to:

"Yakuza Girls" by Cold Chisel – Check it out on iTunes. Caution – rude words.

"Painless" by Baby Animals.

"Shine On You Crazy Diamond" by Pink Floyd (specifically the 'Delicate Sound of Thunder' live album).

-o0o-

"Chuck! Get your ass in here now!"

"Casey, it's a strip club... I just don't feel comfort..._Urk_!" Chuck uttered as Casey ushered him gently into the dark club.

"Get some beers, I'll clear a table."

It being three in the morning, there were tables available. Casey found one near the stage, and close to the three counter agents they were tailing.

After five minutes, Chuck felt his way cautiously in the darkness to join him and placed the beer bottles on the table. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noted the lack of coasters. Or doilies. Or female patrons.

"Twenty two dollars! Two beers! Twenty t-"

"Chuck? You're drawing attention," Casey growled.

"Hey... Chuck! Its Chuck!" came a voice both Casey and Chuck knew. The voice continued, "Lester, wake up, its Chuck!"

"Oh God," groaned both Casey and Chuck.

Chuck let his forehead rest gently on the table. After the four foot drop onto the table, his forehead hurt. But thinking of the painkiller he now needed gave Chuck an idea.

He sat back up. Great, now his head spun in conjunction with the throbbing from his head banging. "Casey, have you got a tranq gun?"

Casey looked at Chuck for a moment, then over at Jeff, who was waiving cheerily and calling, "Yoohoo!" at them, and Lester, who was still slightly passed out.

Casey nodded, "Good idea. You do it."

Since it was hot, summer had decided to have one last surge a month late, Chuck hadn't brought a jacket. Casey took the mag out of his air pistol, ejected and passed over three tranq darts to Chuck.

Chuck, looked at the little darts in his palm, swallowed and nodded. He took a three dollar swig of beer, and got up to head over to his fellow Nerd Herders.

As he got to them, he clapped both of them on the shoulders, sticking a dart into each of them as he greeted them with a 'I'd rather dangle my genitals over a running blender' grimace and warbling, "Hey guys!" His voice changing pitch five times during those two words. It was just like being a teenager all over again.

Lester jerked awake, looked at Chuck and slurred, "There's-no-way-that-was-leg-before-wic..." before resuming his previous position of face down on the table.

Jeff stared vacantly at the empty stage/runway for twelve seconds before saying, "Ow," in a puzzled tone and blinked a few times before looking at Chuck.

Jeff's second dart worked a further nine seconds later. Jeff managed to utter proudly, "My sister will... be... back... on... soo..." during those _very long_ nine seconds, before he too went _thud_.

Chuck tottered back to Casey on legs that felt like cooked spaghetti and drank the remaining seven dollar ninety nine worth of his beer in three gulps.

Casey growled at him, "Nice going, moron. They check for idiots sitting there with an empty beer. Go buy another. Better make it three."

Seven minutes, and a further thirty two dollars ninety seven cents later, Chuck resumed his seat. At these prices, he needed a drink. But then, at these prices, he couldn't really afford to...

Casey powered up his Bluetooth earpiece, and using Chuck's hack, listened into the live mike on one of their target's phones.

It worked fine, except nothing was happening. Then a raucous drum intro let them know that the stage was about to be occupied. The song featured some gravelly voiced singer who was yelling about a 'bus load of yakuza girls.' Chuck's first beer had settled down nicely, and Chuck found himself nodding along to the beat of the song.

When Sarah strutted onto the stage, he stopped nodding. Not that Chuck noticed, but everyone else in the club also stopped drinking for the remaining two minutes, twenty seconds that the song lasted.

Two minutes, _thirty_ five seconds later and Chuck was seriously contemplating installing a brass pole in his bedroom.

It wasn't because of the music, good as it was. There was a different reason the entire room sat there, stunned, mouths open, drinks untouched.

Sarah was wearing a small gold bikini. The kind that the bottoms tie up at the side... Chuck loved those...

Normally.

Now, a whole room full of guys were looking at flesh that Chuck had fairly good reason to presume exclusive viewing and drooling rights to. Flesh that didn't normally see the light of day, even if it was actually indoors. And three a.m.

How was she doing that? Some of it defied, or at least had special dispensation from, the laws of gravity. Chuck regretfully decided a brass pole in his bedroom would be a mistake. Ellie would ask questions... maybe in Sarah's hotel room...

Casey leaned over and closed Chuck's mouth with a _clack_, saying, "No, I am _not _loaning you the tranq gun."

The next song was slower than the first, but still a rock song, sung by a woman with a smoky voice. The men in the room stayed very still. Sarah was focussing on the three counter agents sitting around a very small table. They were focusing on her. They were focussing on her with a concentration level approaching monomania.

Casey grumbled to himself. While Walker was flaunting what the moron was drooling over up there, the mission was going nowhere.

Two more guys joined the table of baddies. The music segued into a slower, older song. Casey recognised this one, a live version of one of Pink Floyd's songs. Now Casey was nodding in time to the music too. He liked Floyd. Their 'The Wall' album came out when he was in his last year of high school. Ever since then, he'd listened to Floyd when he could.

Walker slowed to match the music, basically doing a 'white guy two step' in time to the beat, except what Walker was doing was far more, Casey hesitated to use the word sensuous, but... She was writhing her body in time to a Stratocaster that still gave Casey goose bumps. The room slowly came out of its stupor, and murmured conversation resumed.

Casey hit 'record' on his phone. Even with a slower song playing, the noise was too loud to be perfectly sure as it happened live, but later on, they'd be able to filter out the music – Casey had that recording – and they should get a clear voice reading. Walker was focussing on her marks, but every once in a while she'd check out the room. He noted she made sure to find Bartowski every time. So long as neither of them did anything to flip a mission, he'd turn a blind eye. And since they'd started doing it, the disgusting stomach turning longing looks had stopped. He supposed they were good for each other. Just so long as they didn't name a rugrat after him...

Pink Floyd eventually ended, and Sarah left the stage with one hundred and thirty seven dollars, not including the thirty Euros, tucked into various portions of her bikini. She felt an overwhelming urge to shower and hurt people, not necessarily in that order. The 'shower' phase of her urge would need specialised assistance in washing the eye slime off. The 'hurt people' portion of the festivities would have to wait.

Casey's ears pricked up. The deal was happening now. Oh shit! They were using the wrong laptop! The two new arrivals had provided their own means.

With Chuck's hack, the plan was they'd get the transaction and be able to track both the target's and the Fulcrum cell's financials.

Only the Fulcrum sellers weren't playing fair. They were using their own computer. Damn, damn, blast and damn. He glanced over, Chuck had realised the problem too. Crap! And Walker would be at least five minutes leaving backstage. Five minutes they didn't have.

Chuck was on his phone, frantically trying to increase his hack on the buyer's cells to reach out and touch the new laptop, but he didn't like his odds. He really needed his work tools for this.

Casey realised it was a bust, and grabbing Chuck, he headed across the street for the parking garage, before the deal broke up. Chuck valiantly tried to keep working the problem on his phone.

Casey quickly took in the parking level. The Chevy their targets were driving was there. A quick check on his tracking app, and yes, the tracker was still functional. Ignoring 'Loretta,' the once white Mitsubishi van that had what looked like a Polecat peering out from the drivers seat, there were three other cars that had pulled in since team Bartowski had arrived.

-o0o-

Chuck saw they were getting away. Honestly, the plan was very safe. Casey had emphasised, if he saw them getting away, pretend to be a civilian (not that much of a stretch) and pass near them to get the plate number. All he had to do was get the license plate. And there was even a crossing conveniently near for him to do just that. So he stepped out onto the painted crossing, and pretended to have not seen the car ten feet from him. That should give him time to memorise the plate number.

Buh bow. They decided to not stop. Which was a problem for pedestrians currently eight feet from the front bumper.

Make that four feet.

Uh, make that...

Oh shit!

Chuck put his hands out onto the hood as he hopped backwards, thinking they were going to stop.

Any second now, they would stop. Annny second now...

Casey had once called it situational awareness, although at the time he'd been talking about being at the controls of a Super Hornet over somewhere that didn't particularly like having Super Hornets (or much of anything wearing insignia related to the United States of America military) flying overhead.

Chuck's situation awareness presented him with the problem that he was now in a 'cattle race,' a concrete ramp with no safe zone on either side. He did the only thing he could. He jumped on the hood, grabbing the lip of the hood near the wiper housing.

He honestly expected them to stop and let him off. Which was a problem now. They didn't.

And if anything, they were gaining speed. There was now way Chuck could let go and fall off to one side now, on the passenger side was a constant concrete wall. If he hit that, he risked bouncing off it and back into the wheels of his current (and uncomfortable) ride. On the driver's side, were support columns for the parking structure. No. Just no.

At least they weren't shooting at him.

And then Chuck reserved the right to kick himself later, provided he lived, because the passenger seat guy got fed up with trying to wave Chuck away, and decided to do something about it involving a largish looking hand gun (he thought of asking Sarah later, and then realised she probably wouldn't be in the mood to discuss weapon types as seen by 'a weapon clueless asset while clinging for dear life onto the hood of a car.'

And then with a _buhdoomp!_ they were on the street.

Which didn't stop passenger from trying to shoot Chuck. A quick glance told him that there was no oncoming traffic, Chuck let go and rolled off the hood on the sidewalk side.

While the car was doing what felt like about fifteen miles an hour. Once he was free, the car sped up, and shot through the lights, turning left to a chorus of honking horns.

Chuck discovered to his amazement, he'd survived fairly well. Without quite knowing how, he was in a crouched position, watching the car drive away. So he must have spun as he bounced. Then he realised his right elbow hurt. As he got up, inspecting his elbow, his right knee let him know it wasn't happy either.

He'd lost some skin, but he was alive. At least until Sarah found him. This was going to be fun. He knew she'd kill him for 'risking the Intersect.'

As Chuck was getting up, he discovered his ribs hurt, and as he was feeling his lower ribcage, he discovered his fingertips on his middle fingers had gone numb from about the middle of the last part of the finger to the tip. That was probably from the death-grip he reasoned. Casey's Vic came to a screeching halt beside him, and Sarah – now changed back into her black shorts and Orange Orange hoodie – was at his side while the big Ford was still bouncing on its shocks.

"Sweetie, darling, swee – Ow!" Chuck greeted his blonde CIA handler has she wrapped her self around him. And then she hit him.

-o0o-

They were back inside Castle. It was too risky to go home now. It was after five in the morning and Ellie and Devon could wake up. Sarah sent a message on Chuck's phone to Ellie telling her that she'd taken Chuck back to her hotel, because it had been too hot and they wanted to sleep in her air conditioned room.

After that, she viciously (and silently, unlike Chuck) painted something red and stingy onto Chuck grazes.

He'd tried to explain, but she wasn't listening. Her silent treatment was very loud.

Casey just ignored them both. Until he came into the little medical bay that Chuck claimed needed something called a 'hollow doctor.'

"Bartowski!"

"Present! Ow!" Chuck replied to Casey and the stingy red goop in that order.

"Can you explain to me why I have a new active tracking dot?"

"Um, well, I had the dot in my hand when I took up hood surfing..."

Casey stared at the tired and scared nerd for a moment, "So you stuck it under the lip of the hood." Chuck nodded," That's pretty good... Chuck."

Chuck tried to not let his eyebrows show surprise at Casey's use of his first name. Sarah failed too.

"Presence of mind in the face of danger," admitted Casey to no-one in particular, "Oh I accessed video from the parking garage and also an ATM across the street. Walker? You might want to have a look at it."

Bizarrely, Chuck thought for a moment that Casey had winked at him. Casey? Winking? Oh, he had to see this.

Everybody tromped back into main ops. Casey had the video ready on two screens. The video from the ATM was first. The angle showed the exit from the garage on the right and the street up to, but not including the lights.

When Casey clicked on play, Chuck's feet hovered just above the pavement as the front of the car came into view. The feet picked themselves up, and from the gutter onwards Chuck rode with his knees bent up. The car swung onto the street, and swerved twice before Chuck landed on the pavement. The muzzle flash of the passenger's gun showed twice during the swervage which probably saved Chuck's life. There was no sound in the video, so they missed hearing Chuck's girlish screams. Sarah said nothing during the video, and didn't look at either of them.

"This," said Casey moving to the other screen, "is from the parking garage. Watch." It showed the drive ramp and the crossing. The Chevy drove through first. And then Chuck's feet came into view. Chuck realised his own memory was different. As he recalled it, he had time. The video showed he would have needed to react within half a second. The Fulcrum team gave him no time, and drove deliberately at him. Sarah hissed, and her hand grabbed his good arm when the bumper drove into his legs. The video Chuck was left sprawled on the hood as the car drove out of shot. It all happened a lot quicker than Chuck thought it had. Aside from her grabbing his arm, Sarah hadn't reacted to the video.

Casey rewound it, and played Chuck greatest hit again. "Walker, cut him some slack. He had no time to react. His placement and timing was spot on, we just didn't count on them deliberately aiming for him. Chuck, nice move to add the tracker. That was pretty good work," he finished quietly as he walked off, leaving the pair of them watch a screen of a now empty driveway.

From the next room, they clearly heard Casey say, "World's ugliest hood ornament."

They stood there in silence for a moment, her hand still holding his arm. Eventually she turned him to face her. By the light of the monitors, he could see she still had glitter on her face, and it continued on down to below the zip of the hoodie. The glitter below her eyes was tracked with tears. He moved towards her and _wham,_ she held him tight, trembling.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again, Chuck Bartowski."

"Well, I didn-"

"I could have _lost_ you," she whispered as she continued to cling to him.

He cupped the back of her head and whispered back to her, "Sorry." Her hair was all across his face, her scent in his nostrils and the woman he loved in his arms. Chuck was in a happy place. Even if his ribs hurt, and he had no feeling in two of his fingertips.

Maybe now wasn't the time to ask about having a pole installed in her hotel room.

-o0o-

**A little background** on this chapter.

I work in the car park ('parking garage' to you Yanks) of a small shopping centre in Sydney's China Town. Dull job, so I have time to read and (sometimes) write a little fan fiction...

At 10:37 on the morning of Saturday the 14th of January 2012, a young dickhead driving his mother's Mazda decided to exit without paying. He waited for another car to leave, and tailgated behind them before the gate could come down. I saw this on the video, and stepped out of my office to have a little chat with him.

What happened next is described above, but without the guns (and Sarah Walker coming to cuddle me afterwards). The young dickhead plead guilty to Reckless Driving Occasioning Actual Bodily Harm (my skinned knee and elbow), and will loose his licence for probably two years.

My wife's reaction was subtly different from the way I described Sarah's. My wife was a lot more verbal. For a lot longer...


	11. Chapter 11

-o0o-

As of ANZAC Day 2012, I don't own Chuck et al.

And apparently, some tweeps feel that I owe them for shooting Chuck in the head during "Enjoy The Rest Of Your Life, Chuck."

Well, this was the best I could come up with.

-o0o-

**Simprim (n.) – **_The little movement of false modesty by which a woman with a cavernous visible cleavage pulls her skirt down over her knees._

Douglas Adams & John Lloyd – The Deeper Meaning of Liff

Published by Pan Books and Faber & Faber,1990.

-o0o-

Following on from their little adventure earlier in the morning, it was too late to go home, so two super spies and a nerd slept in the Perspex walled holding cells over in the north wing (the holding cells, pharmaceuticals and explosives storage wing) of Castle. Chuck felt like a hamster in his one. Perhaps it was the one inch air holes that slightly took the edge off the whole 'bullet proof' and 'explosives resistant' -ness of the cells.

Chuck was woken up by Sarah shaking him awake. He was pleased to note that the door to the holding cell was still open. He was less pleased to note that he was in a single cot.

Also, he was less than pleased to notice how stiff he was, the graze to his elbow was starting to wake up too, and his fingertips were still numb.

Breakfast at chez Castle was a simple and quiet affair. Because, food wise, it was mainly MREs, toast and or black, no sugar instant coffee – The espresso machine was still a no show – and silent because Casey had joined Chuck and Sarah for breakfast.

A first. And possibly a last, judging by Casey's expression.

The boys went over to the Buy More to go to work. Chuck wondered at what else Castle had hidden in storage. He was wearing one of his uniforms, but as far as he knew, all of his uniforms were at home in various stages of decay and or laundry needs.

Chuck had a mental image of like a whole bunch of varying clothes on hangers on a massive long dry-cleaner's rack. Need a Nerd Herd uniform? Push the button Max, and Voila! There it is. Need a wedding dress? Push the button – whirrrr, hummm – Bingo! One white, lacy wedding dress with a sweetheart neckl...

Yeah, right... Sarah had probably pinched some of his clothes, just in case.

The day at the desk dragged. The dragging was made worse by the fact that Lester and Jeff seemed none the worse for wear.

On the other hand, they'd had the advantage of a couple of hours extra sleep more than Chuck, thanks to the tranq dart(s). At least they didn't seem to remember anything. Which was probably normal, really. Chuck decided that Lester complaining about Gordon Ramsey's belittling his gefillte fish curry was due to the mixing of alcohol and tranq dart. Either that, or that was an episode of Kitchen Nightmares worth actually watching for once.

-o0o-

After the trio had trudged back to base, patched up the nerd from his hood surfing episode, and discovered he'd managed to add a tracker to the car he'd fallen off of, along with semi forgiving him for surfing and falling off said hood. Casey advised HQ about the events of the morning.

The tech watched the video of Chuck's feet drift along the ramp, being loosely attached to the vehicle also on the ramp at the time. The tech muttered something, and disappeared.

To be replaced by a short redhead wearing a quilted dressing gown, some sort of blue-green face goop with neat holes around her eyes, where presumably the cucumber slices had been, and bed-head.

"Major Casey, do mean to inform me, _at_ might I add, an ungodly hour in the morning, that a team of Fulcrum agents, the same agents you've been hunting for what feels like longer than a year now, have had a clear view of the Intersect's face?"

"Yes General."

"I think they also saw Sarah's face," Chuck tried to spread the joy.

Casey glared at his asset for a split second, and muttered with his face as still as he could make it, "They weren't looking at her face."

Chuck stood facing the screen, between Casey and Sarah, standing at attention as best he could, and mentally reviewed the actions of earlier in the evening. Strip club, pole dancing ninja, gold bikini...

Oh... Right.

General Beckman sighed, assuming that Airforce generals could actually sigh before lesser mortals, "Very well major, we will review this information, and reconvene at a later time. Good morning."

Stab the button just out of view.

"We will reconvene," mimicked Chuck, adding, "We are not amused."

Sarah cut-off whatever comment Casey was about to make by leading Chuck away from danger saying, "Come on Chuck, you'll be at work in under three hours. Get some sleep."

-o0o-

The reviewing, regathering or regrouping – honestly, Chuck couldn't recall which 're' it was that wasn't amusing – took three days.

During those three days, Chuck slept like a log the first night. A log that had a blonde goddess fall soundly asleep across the top of him. Which didn't totally help his sore ribs.

Day two was marked by Sarah moving back to her hotel room. That morning, they lay entwined in his bed, "I don't want to go," she admitted.

"I'm not sure I want you to go either. Do you have to?"

She studied him for a moment, "I do if you ever want to, you know, again. Are you saying you don't want to, you know, with me?"

"Let's get you out of here!" he enthused.

She studied him harder, which made him squirm, then she said, "I don't know how to take that... are you saying..."

She ruined his squirmage with a grin. He tried to clobber her with his pillow.

The key phrase there is 'tried to.'

The important lesson Chuck learned that morning was: 'Never attack a ninja with a pillow, because they cheat.'

It was a lesson he was doomed to fail again and again.

And again.

But then, that was probably because he played to lose.

-o0o-

On the third day, Chuck was invited over to Castle by Sarah ringing him and asking him over, and also by Casey grabbing him by the scruff of the neck since he, Casey, was on his way over to Castle as well.

It was allegedly all General Beckman's idea. As they now had a track on the Fulcrum operatives as well as the rogue cell that had the smart bullets, they could apply the Bartowski Special, a name that General Beckman pointedly avoided using, referring to it instead as the electronics surveillance system currently employed on the first rogue cell.

This would entail isolating the Fulcrum agents, and hacking their phones while the agents were distracted in some manner. Once their phones were hacked, their home base could be determined and any computers also electronically surveilled using the same hack, while ensuring the safety of the team by confirming the location of both rogue cells by monitoring their phone locations.

See? Simple.

She left the minor working out of details for the team to deal with.

-o0o-

At seven o'clock in the morning, the plaza square was cool. Chuck was cool enough to regret leaving the light jacket in the Suburban. He hoped Sarah was okay, since she was wearing noticeably less than he was.

While they were thrashing out the minor details, that is to say, everything, Chuck had pondered at the suggested distraction.

At that point, Casey looked pointedly at Sarah. Sarah sighed, and patted the back of Chuck's hand, saying, "I think I've got an idea about that."

When Chuck saw what her idea was, he was lucky he wasn't carrying anything expensive and fragile. Like say, the laptops on his way to load up the Suburban.

Chuck was currently sitting, not quite freezing anything off, as he sipped his cafe coffee at the outdoor table while he pretended to read the news on his laptop. This job would need the processor speed and RAM that the newish Rorke7 provided.

His marks were disguised as workmen, also having coffee, and presumably a break before they started their day's nefarious work. The Fulcrum guys were across the little plaza, sitting on the concrete blocks near the pedestrian tunnel that lead from across the road.

Chuck sensed movement in the tunnel. That was when he saw her.

If she'd have had a sound track, it would have been 'Mustang Sally.' From Chuck's vantage, she was even stepping in time with his mental bass guitar riff. The venturi effect of the tunnel added the necessary invisible wind machine special effect quite nicely.

The woman he was in love with, was advancing towards him, cunningly disguised as a brunette, putting Chuck in mind of a CGI character from a relatively popular game.

Mental note: Never mention that to Sarah. Ever. In fact, burn the cardboard cut-outs of Miranda that the Buy More had stacked out the back. Or let Jeff and Lester find... no, burning was a cleaner option.

She was proudly doing the Walk Of Shame, since the strappy after five little black dress was blatantly not quite appropriate for seven in the morning. After all, there could be children present. Even including her gold bikini from the other morning, this was the most revealing number Chuck had ever seen Sarah wear. And Chuck had paid attention to everything she'd ever worn.

The little black dress was heavily emphasised on the little. The hem line was only a hair width past the lowest point her panties reached. Below that, it was bare leg all the way down to the ballet slippers she wore.

Her voice came over the coms, _'Chuck? Breath.'_ Her face was neutral, but her voice smiled for him.

"Uh.."

And as she neared the middle of the square, even though he knew it was coming, he still goggled when she bent _right_ over as she faced him to adjust the heel of her left slipper, and asked sotto voice, _'Are they still watching?'_ Referring to the marks currently behind her.

"Are who still watching?"

'_Chuck!' _

Technically, she shouldn't be able to hiss a whisper like that. Or a name that doesn't have any 'esses' in it. But then, as Chuck knew, Sarah was special.

"Oh, right... um, gimme a second."

This time the name 'Chuck' was said differently. Exasperated, but proudly. _'If you don't tell me exactly what's happening, right now, our next movie night is going to include The Notebook, and Two Weeks Notice.'_

"You horrible, evil woman..." he said after a slight pause.

From the electrical service closet he was using as cover, Casey pointed out, _'You do realise that those first two words were redundant. And for God's sake tell her, I don't want to listen to those films over the mikes either.'_

When she stood up, she adjusted the hem of the dress back down. There was only a quarter inch of play in the movement. After that, she walked almost demurely out of the square, muttering into her hidden mike, _'Huh, you drag me to the movies, a _full_ theatre by the way. Full of single men, all in their forties, and all _fresh_ from their mother's basements. To watch some stupid sci fi movie...' _She thought to herself, for a supposed 'classic,' it had made absolutely no sense what so ever. And what was the unicorn even doing in there in the first place? It was like it had come from an entirely different movie.

Chuck smiled fondly at the memory, "Yeah..." He'd have to do that again. The looks they'd both gotten was totally worth it...

'_Well!'_ demanded the large spy pretending to fix the electrics.

"Well, they're both still sitting there, neither of them have notice that they've both poured their coffees onto the ground. I don't think either of them have blinked for like five minutes, and if they aren't careful, sparrows will start making nests in their open mouths."

Sarah was level with him now and he saw the smirk around her eyes, as she pointedly didn't make eye contact.

'_I meant about their phones, idiot!'_

"Their phones? Geez, I did that before Sarah came down the tunnel."

'_Chu-uuuu-ck!'_

'_Walker? D'you wanna add the _lonnng_ version of the BBCs Pride And Prejudice to that movie night.'_

"Aw, c'mon guys! Geez, why not add Titanic to the list too?"

'_Oooh, I haven't seen that in ages...'_

Chuck and Casey desperately hoped she was being sarcastic.

When the weekend came around, that faint hope died a whimpering, lonely death.

-o0o-

**A.N. **This chapter is dedicated to the anonymous young lady who created whiplash and coffee spillage all over the square in front of Sydney Central Station back in February or March early one morning.

Opinions expressed regarding the movie Bladerunner are not those of the author. Even if the 'ugly one horned mule' scene did actually come from another movie.


	12. Chapter 12

As of 23rd of May 2012, I don't own Chuck, et al.

And yes, I am aware that half of the films mentioned are after this is supposed to be set. You know what? I don't care.

-o0o-

**CLABBY (adj.) – **_A 'clabby' conversation is one struck up by a commissionaire or cleaning lady in order to avoid any further actual work. The opening gambit is usually designed to provoke the maximum confusion, and therefore the longest possible clabby conversation. It is vitally important to learn the correct use of 'clixby' (q.v.), the response to a clabby gambit, and not get trapped by a 'ditherington' (q.v.). For instance, if confronted by a clabby gambit such as 'Oh Mr Smith, I didn't know you'd had your leg off', the ditherington response is 'I haven't….' where as the clixby is 'Good'._

**CLIXBY (adj.) – **_Politely rude. Briskly vague. Firmly uninformative._

**DITHERINGTON (n.) – **_Sudden access of panic experienced by one who realizes that he is being drawn inexorably into a clabby (q.v.) conversation, i.e. one he has no hope of enjoying, benefitting from or understanding._

Douglas Adams & John Lloyd – The Deeper Meaning of Liff

Published by Pan Books and Faber & Faber, 1990.

-o0o-

"Chuck, I've got to say, I'm with Sarah on this one." Ellie shared a smirk with Sarah, "Kirk. Definitely Captain Kirk."

The extended family was around the dinner table, expanding on the conversation that had begun during the afternoon at the Buy More, where of those currently present, only Chuck had been an active, if semi willing, participant.

That hadn't stopped Sarah from regaling Ellie and Devon with her interpretation of the discussion. Chuck had objected that this was a rather loose and one sided version but Sarah and Ellie didn't seem to care.

Sarah's version of the famous Kirk vs Picard argument, expanded at the Buy More to also include Archer and Janeway, was based on what she'd only seen via the spy cameras that controlled his life, although she made it sound like she'd been there. Apparently, she'd turned the volume down some ten minutes into the discussion, so she'd missed some three hours of the full argument, even if, and Chuck would normally admit this, a lot of the argument circled back in itself several times after the initial five minutes. That circling back was mainly due to Morgan. And Lester. Jeff had tried his best, but...

Chuck also felt that Sarah had absolutely no qualifications to weigh into the argument, seeing as how she obviously had absolutely no idea who the major players were, aside from her viewing of only one movie – the most recent, and big budget, one. Chuck was flat out overruled on this view point.

Chuck swapped looks at his sister and un-authorised girlfriend. The pair of them had the same slightly far away expression.

"Okay, just so we're clear on this, you," and he swivelled to include both of the women in his life, "are both saying that _as a character_" Chuck emphasised with expression, voice and a raised index finger to each of the women, "you find Captain Kirk over Captain Picard as a better captain of the Enterprise."

Both Ellie and Sarah nodded with slight smiles that indicated they might be thinking of something else.

Chuck still wasn't totally convinced, "We are talking Kirk, not the actor that just happens to be playing him."

"Mmm hmm" Sarah nodded, still with the same smile.

"So, our watching some half-baked rom-com with Lindsey Lohan and the very _same actor_ we'd just seen in the re-boot movie was a pure coincidence?"

"Yep," agreed Sarah, sitting a tad prouder at that utterance.

"The same coincidence that let you trawl IMDB and find Princess Diaries. _Two_," Chuck held up the requisite number of fingers, "for us to watch, the next night?" he asked after pausing for a theatrical shudder.

"Yep." She affirmed. Her chest sticking out a little further than normal, defying him to argue her unassailable logic.

"Ooh, was he any good in that?" Ellie wanted to know.

Sarah did the 'so-so' hand movement, adding a noncommittal, "Nmm."

Chuck looked at Devon, saying, "I think we've officially stopped the Kirk Picard debate, and have now segued into the freebie five."

Devon looked horror struck, and held up his hands to Chuck to shush him.

Chuck wondered why Devon looked horror stricken, until Ellie asked, "So, Sarah. Have you ever wondered who's on Chuck's list?"

Chuck's head rotated towards his sister, just like in the horror movies, all in slow motion, his face now emulating Devon's in a mixture of dread, horror and betrayal.

Ellie's expression was that of beatific innocence, and a flash of big sisterly malice, before the innocence resumed its regular broadcast.

While Chuck was still staring at his sister in horrified disbelief, a seriously sensual, "So Chuck, who's on your list?" was purred into his right ear by a sneaky super spy who'd snuck up behind him.

"Yeragah!" stated Chuck as he leapt three feet to his left. Forgetting for the moment that leaping from the sitting position is a slightly technical process, generally involving a minimum of three stages, and best not attempted while under duress.

He missed one of the stages. A reasonably critical one, as it turned out.

As Chuck got back to his feet, he flashed a look of total hatred at his sister. The look bounced harmlessly off Ellie, as big sisters are generally well known to be immune to hot glares from little brothers. Especially when the specific little brother involved is currently resting on the carpet beside the table. He then tried a pleading look at Sarah.

Sarah returned a brief flash of sympathy, but then she returned to evil joy mode. She was enjoying this. Maybe a bit too much, Chuck thought.

"You know, I'm not really one for the freebie five. That's more of Morgan's domain," admitted Chuck, once he'd resumed verticality.

Ellie and Sarah shared a knowing glance. It wasn't fair, they were ganging up on him.

"But... but Chu-uck..." wheedled Sarah, "...didn't you _once_ have a..." she looked at Ellie for confirmation.

"Life sized, cardboard cut-out of Miranda Lawson..." confirmed Ellie.

"Uh..." gulped Chuck.

Uh oh. This was headed into dangerous waters.

"...in your bedroom," intimated Sarah.

The smirk she provided him was a free sample.

Just the way Sarah could say 'bedroom,' sent shivers up his spine, and also implied she felt that his activities with the cardboard cut-out just might not have been suitable for transmission on the Disney channel.

"See? Now, I can explain that! Jeff and Lester were..."

"So... you thought you'd _save_ her, by taking her home, and hiding her in the privacy of your bedroom..." Each time Sarah said the word bedroom, she'd made it into the sexiest and intimate word imaginable.

_Very well, two can play that game_. He stepped in close to Sarah, who smirked back at him, knowing what he was about to try. He bent over to whisper into her ear.

"You know what? Yes, I did, once, have a rescued promotional standee in my room. But it's the _real woman_ I'm in love with that I want to share that room, and the rest of my life, with."

_Nothing. Not a shiver, not a goose bump, nothing. She can make the word _bedroom_ sound so intimate, so sensual. Why can't I make her..._

She grabbed his shirt, pulled him close and whispered hungrily, "You're sleeping at my place tonight."

_Ah. Okaaaay. That might count as a success._

The mood lifted, and they all adjourned to the couch, the TV playing quietly, as they waited for their show to start.

Sarah snuggled into Chuck's side, and said to him, "So, cardboard cut-out girl is one of yours."

"Yvonne Strzechowski?" Chuck was _extremely_ careful not to pronounce her name Stra-Hot-Ski, "Yeah, I guess," he grinned at the TV, "I might also admit to the blonde girl, reminds me of a certain someone," he squoze that certain someone, "in that vampire TV show, cancelled now, but stared the same guy from the Honolulu 5-Oh remake."

Slight pause, distant smile, "Okay, he'll do," said both Sarah and Ellie.

"And when I was younger, Kim Basinger. Two words," he grinned at Sarah, "Vickie and Vale."

"Daryl Hannah, the mermaid in Splash," added Devon.

"Yeah," Chuck drifted off for a moment, "and she made for a seriously hot killer robot in Bladerunner."

"You know how else, when he was twelve? Gillian..."

"Aw geez, _thanks_ sis."

"...Anderson. You're welcome Chuck."

"Agent Scully? With you there Chuckster," Devon gave Chuck a long distance fist bump.

Sarah sat up straighter, "Ooh, Duchovny? Yeah, he was hot back then."

Chuck raised both eyebrows, being unable to do the Spock as well as, well everyone else, at Sarah.

"What? I watched TV when I was a kid," she looked up into his eyes, and added in a little girl voice, "Sometimes." When he was finished coughing and spluttering his wine, she continued, "And that cartoon you made me watch, the one about Rapunzel? Well, I kind of like the voice of the male lead in that..."

"And obviously, Chris Pine, the new Kirk," came Chuck's voice

"Yeah," admitted Sarah in a little voice, curling back into Chuck's side a little closer.

"What about Hemsworth? The guy that played his father at the start of the film."

Both Ellie and Sarah made the same moan, "Ooooh! That was sooo saaad..."

"Wasn't he the one that played Thor?" Devon asked.

"You think your thor, I'm tho thor, I can barely p... Thorry. I, aah, *ahem*, sorry. That's his brother, I think."

"Oh, the Avatar guy? Now he's cute."

"Um, think that might be a different brother."

They were quiet for a bit while they all thought.

"Aragorn," declared Ellie, "It's about the only thing I've seen him in, but..."

Chuck faked a cough, cupping his free hand to his mouth to clearly say, "Haldir!" as though that was how he normally coughed.

"Thanks Chuck," said a slightly pink Ellie.

"Who?" Sarah wanted to know.

"You are _most_ welcome, sis. One of the Woodland elves, died at the battle of Helms Deep."

"Oooh, Wolverine!" exclaimed Sarah suddenly. "And Keith Urban, the doctor in the new Trek movie."

"That's Karl," Chuck whispered to her.

"Whatever," she waived her hand, dismissing his nitpicking. Then she considered for a moment, "Actually, him too," she continued.

"Yeaah!" agreed Ellie. The two women looked off into the distance for a moment, and then both spookily sighed wistfully at the same time. Devon and Chuck shared raised eyebrows, but said nothing.

-o0o-

The show that Ellie and Devon were waiting for started, so the conversation quietened, and the volume on the TV was turned up. It was the cop show, set in New York City, featuring the former captain of the Serenity.

When the ad break came around, Sarah asked, "Do you think they'll ever get together?"

Chuck made a judging humming sound "Mmm, probably. It's a balancing act. People watch the show for the interaction between Rook and Heat. But you keep the will-they-won't-they dance going too long, and you jump the shark," he looked at her amused expression, and answered the unasked question, "they get bored and stop watching."

Chuck sipped his wine, and Ellie continued for him. This was a discussion that had happened a couple of times before Sarah arrived into her brother's life. But when Morgan was involved, Ellie tried to keep out of it.

"Three seasons would be about the maximum that people could stand. Four if it was done cleverly, but you'd need some good writers, and a decent plot twist to pull that off. But when you resolve the will-they-won't-they dance, that changes the whole show. It's no longer about the sexual tension, and seeing as how that was pretty much the whole reason the audience watched it in the first place, well you've just lost that audience."

Chuck set his glass back down, "So, once you've got them together, you've got _one_ season, tops, to round things out, have the wedding and end the show. If you go for two or more seasons afterwards, well, that's just greedy and stupid. You end up having to drag in more and more outrageous guest stars." Chuck gazed down at his beloved, "Imagine say, Bo Derek as a killer snow bunny for example, or Timbo Dalton as an arch villain for the whole season. Or you could have all your previous villains escape prison all at the same time. And that's just stupid. No one would ever watch that."

The advert for something made in garish plastic that sliced, diced and helped you shed those unwanted pounds ended and the conversation lulled while the show resumed.

At the next ad break, and almost as soon as the ad for some singing reality show started booming from the TV, Devon hit mute as quickly as he could, wincing at the noise.

"What if they go the amnesia plot?" Sarah asked, resuming the discussion during the ads.

"God, I don't think any TV executive's been stupid enough to try that since Dallas, what was it, two whole seasons, all a dream? The audience just won't buy it. Plus it's totally implausible. You'd be better for one of them to declare their love while the other is near death. Again, you wouldn't want to drag it out too much," said Devon, as he got up to freshen up the glasses.

"So there's only two episodes that'll be really popular, the 'get together' episode. That'll be for the guys. And that's usually a season climax. Annnd, then there's the one with the white dress," said Chuck.

"Awwww, I wonder what she'll wear?" Sarah wanted to know.

"I just told you, a white dress. Ow! Devon, help me."

"Sorry Bro, you're on your own."

Chuck's, "Coward," was muffled somewhat by the cushion that Sarah held in place.

"Breathing coward," Devon corrected, sharing a smile with his fiancé.

-o0o-

After Rook finished, one of the Crime Scene Unit shows started, one of the secondary ones, but not the one with 'Loo-ten-ant Daaaa-n,' Sarah took Chuck by the hand and announced they were going home.

They said their good nights, and just as they were about to leave, one of the characters on the show announced his discovery that the murder weapon was a high tech smart gun that fired bullets that could change direction while in flight.

Smart bullets.

Chuck and Sarah glanced at each other as they stood in the open doorway, and silently agreed, they were committed to leave now, and couldn't stay to watch a show that Ellie knew Chuck didn't particularly like.

As they crossed the courtyard, Chuck suggested, "We could ask Casey to record it, make some notes. I mean that's what he does, isn't it?"

She shoved him into the stairwell leading to the underground garage, "One, it's just a television show. You know very few operations have their missions based on the plot of a TV show. And two, do you really wanna explain to Beckman where the idea came from if we do get something out of it?"

"Um, maybe not."

Once they got to her hotel room, Chuck still wanted to look up the plot of the CSU program. Just to be sure.

Sarah, on the other hand, had other ideas regarding the preferred sequence of events for the rest of the evening.

Sarah had her way. In more ways than one.

Once Chuck was convinced that her way was a lot more funner than his – not a hard decision, one option involved a Sarah Walker mostly nude except for a tiny amount of what was basically just either lace, or dental floss, the other option necessitated his squinting into an iPhone. Option two died a quick, lonely death as the phone followed a parabolic trajectory somewhat in the direction of the couch.

-o0o-

It took a couple of days for Chuck to remember he wanted to look up the CSU episode, but the delay wasn't his fault. They'd had a couple of quick missions, two nights running. Don't you love that word, 'quick?' It implies simple and easy. The more memorable of the missions almost ended when the bad guy flushed paperwork down the toilet.

It was due to Casey that the word 'almost' is used to describe the more fragrant parts of that long, long night.

As Chuck pretty much suspected and Sarah had told him, the show gave no details about smart bullets at all. Some writer had heard about them, and used the concept. Wikipedia had more info, and most of _that_ was guesswork.

The entry did mention GPS as guidance, but Chuck had his doubts about that. The flight time would be too short for it to adjust while in the air. Certainly couldn't be used for hand guns. For a rifle, then. Maybe.

That means a sniper...

So, that scene from Wanted, then. Not scary at all.

During the afternoon, Chuck did a little light reading over in Castle. The training manual on Casey's M-60 general purpose machine gun, which Casey lovingly called Matilda, mentioned tracer burn-out at eleven hundred metres. That would beeee... half a mile-ish.

So that was two scary thoughts. Unseen death from almost anywhere within a little bit shy of three quarters of a mile. And the fact that the military have enough machine guns of a specialised nature, that the rest can be considered 'general purpose.'

Not to be sarcastic, but what are the other purposes? Gardening, perchance?

"Chuck, you okay?" Sarah asked him from the freezer doorway.

"Yeah... just... frustrated. And a little alarmed at the frame of mind of some people, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"I..." Chuck closed up the manual and folders he'd spread across the bench. He got up, and headed to the stairs, climbing up to meet her, "...I'm sorry Sarah, sometimes this just gets to me, you know?"

"Hmmm?" she asked, rubbing her hand along his arm once he was close enough.

"Guns, what we do... It's just..."

"Chuck, you're starting to scare me."

"Guns, Sarah, guns. They only have one use... I'm sorry, I just..."

"You've been down here for a bit, haven't you?" she asked, studying his face.

"...'bout an hour, I guess," he looked back down at main ops, as if judging the time from the layer of folders he'd created.

"Chuck..." she said, her voice full of hurt for him. "Yes, we use guns. But we save lives too. _You_ save lives Chuck. Casey and I are good at what we do. But you make us better. Better agents," and her voice dropped to a whisper so only he could hear, "and better people, too."

He tilted his head at her, just like a confused Labrador.

"I didn't know it at the time, but I didn't like myself before you came along," she whispered.

He nodded mutely, but she could tell he was still down. Sarah Waler knew the many moods of Chuck Bartowski.

There was really only the one – happy to see her.

Anything else called for the big guns...

She took him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at her, "Chuck! This is _not_ a sha-wade... we need tow-tow..."

God bless him, he couldn't resist, or help himself. He joined in with a Chuck grin. A small one, but it was there.

"...con-then-tway-shun!" the pair of them said together. His grin grew bigger at her grin.

She led him into the Orange Orange. He headed back to work with a thank-you nod and smile for her. Once again, he thought to himself, Sarah Walker saves the day.

-o0o-


End file.
